Stability
by Periphery
Summary: At this moment Olivia loves her partner more than she thought possible. Also she wants to smack him upside the head." One case throws a partnership off-kilter.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: None of it is mine, unless I specifically say so. That won't happen often._

_A/N: So this is going to be quite a bit longer than anything I've written before, an idea which scares me a bit. I'm also simultaneously writing and posting for the first time; right now I'm about five chapters ahead of myself. Please bear with me. Set in the not-so-distant future._

* * *

Prologue: Testimonials

* * *

**The best partners are the ones who can communicate without speaking. Benson and Stabler take it a step farther: they can talk to each other without technically being on speaking terms. The hell of it all is that it doesn't get in the way of their job, but still makes the squad room a miserable place to be. After all these years I can tell, with a glance at just one of them, that something is wrong. Figuring out who's mad at whom and why is more difficult.**

**Except for the cold war that followed the Micelli case. That we all understood, except Elliot and Olivia themselves. **

**Like I said, it doesn't get in the way of the job. Only in the way of what makes those two better at their job than anyone else.**

**-Don Cragen**

* * *

I hate evaluating my coworkers. Okay, so I do think about it sometimes. Occupational hazard. But having to actually sit down with them and take that mental step away – it's distinctly uncomfortable.

Of course, they don't like it much either.

-George Huang

* * *

_It was good, really, that Olivia came to the questioning. Captain's still giving us both hell for it, but even he knows that I, picked specifically as the most removed, could never have done it. No-one could have, except Olivia and probably Kathy, but Kathy isn't a cop._

_We might have figured it out without that information. We were close. But still. You see a lot, in a Sex Crimes unit, and that was one of the _best _things I have ever seen. You know. Discounting the possible tragedy and all._

_-Chester Lake_

* * *

**When things get too personal the squad room gets tense. When people are mad at each other the squad room gets tense. Usually neither lasts long: we work harder on the personal cases. And on this job, even Benson and Stabler have figured out that it just ain't worth it to stay mad.**

**At least, that's what I thought.**

**-Odafin Tutuola**

* * *

I come in at the second act. Mostly I'm okay with that – I get to put perps away for life. Except for, you know, the perps who get acquitted, but that's not the point here. I couldn't be a cop. I know that. But sometimes it might be nice to have an excuse to shove someone around. There are a couple of bastards, just from the past few months, that I'd love to have arrested myself.

It might not have happened if I had indicted him straight. I wouldn't have been able to _get_ an indictment if it hadn't happened.

-Casey Novak

* * *

_When Kathy and I split up, I thought I understood better how it is for Olivia. To live alone, to have nothing but a job and a partner. Even as I thought this I knew it was stupid. I have parents and brothers and sisters, and Olivia reminded me every day that my kids were still my kids. But I figured maybe I got it, just a little._

_I didn't. More than nine years as partners, eight she's had no family, and I still have to be hit over the head with it before it sinks in. That there's my partner and she's almost alone in the world and I need to make sure she knows she's not. I'm not very good at that._

_-Elliot Stabler_

* * *

**You know people for a long time, you think you've seen it all with them. Stupid, really. You haven't seen it all until you work with a guy who wants so badly to get **_**to **_**somewhere that he'll blame it all on you. You haven't seen it all until you realize that his wife hasn't seen him in far too long, even though they're no longer separated. You haven't seen it all until even the workaholics among us make excuses to get away from the cold war in the squad room. You can't ever see what's coming, even from the people you know best.**

**-John Munch**

* * *

I used to like having those two come in, Olivia and Elliot. I have a disheartening job, to say the least, and they have a way of giving heart back to a person. Or maybe it's just me. For me it's in the easy way they work together, as though each knows the other's mind. I don't know. Maybe I spend so much time by myself that I'm hypersensitive to actual people. The problem with this is that I can tell when they'd really rather not be within ten blocks of each other. On those days I stand and stare after them and think, maybe the world really _is_ going to shit. If a friendship like that can fail.

It had been like that for so long that I was glad when one came alone. Within ten minutes, of course, I got to give the scary news. I got to feel immensely guilty for being glad.

-Melinda Warner

* * *

_Once, years ago, Elliot talked at career day for the twins' second grade class. I was dragged along since we weren't technically supposed to be there – we were supposed to be working. (That little detail was not included in the presentation.) I sat in the corner and chatted with the teacher. I watched Elizabeth, her eyes glowing as she told every kid who would listen that that was her dad. I listened to my partner boil down our job to its simplest components: find out what happened. Follow the clues. Catch the bad guy. And always, always watch your partner's back. As he said this he pointed at me. Yeah, I told the class, that's the part of the job he's _too _good at._

_Elliot did not take my words to heart._

_-Olivia Benson_

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TBC . . . .

Please R&R. Questions, comments, suggestions, whatev.


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

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_Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance. _

– _Will Durant_

* * *

"Tell me there's something else."

Casey reads the signs of Elliot's rising temper but is powerless to stop it. "There's nothing. She can't ID him; we have no case."

"If you'd seen Fin's interrogation you'd know he's guilty – "

"I don't doubt that, but the law _does_."

"This man raped and tortured _seven_ women, murdered five of them – "

"And until you can give me something other than your gut and weak circumstantial evidence to prove it, my hands are tied!"

The door opens; Cragen and Huang both look to it pleadingly. Olivia takes one look at the confrontation and says, "El, shut up."

"But –"

"Shut up."

"How's Sabrina?" Cragen wants to know.

"More upset that she couldn't help than anything else." Olivia hands him a sheaf of papers. "Munch dug up Spence's real identity. Christopher Micelli, 56, prior convictions for rape and sexual assault in _five_ states, not to mention a misdemeanor record a mile long."

"And this guy is out on our streets how?"

"Pled out before all the evidence was in, every time. Good behavior. Never got more than five years."

"He knows how to work the system," Elliot clarifies.

"He thinks he does," Huang corrects quietly. All eyes turn toward the psychologist.

"You have a recommendation?" Cragen asks.

"He expects to be arrested. Don't prove him right. He's gotten away with this for longer than he expected; he knows he's on shaky ground."

"You're saying – " Elliot begins, but his partner cuts him off.

"And if we let him go?"

Huang smiles. "He'll dig his own grave."

"Counselor?"

Casey shrugs. "I can't get an indictment without that grave. Cut him loose."

* * *

"I want him under surveillance at all times."

"He knows who we are," Lake points out, nodding to his partner. "We picked 'im up."

"I know," Cragen says. "That's why Benson and Stabler are on him."

"Great," Elliot says darkly.

"Olivia?"

"Yeah, I'll keep him in line," she promises.

Elliot shakes his head and decides it isn't worth it to be insulted.

"You'll be linked to each other," the captain informs them. "Keep your radios on you, and _on_. If anything goes wrong, I want to know right away."

His detectives trade glances. No, they won't point out that they've done this before.

* * *

Casey enters the squad room to an unexplained tension, stretched so far across the room that it might pop. Munch spots her first and crosses quickly to her. "We need an arrest warrant for Micelli. And a search warrant, and we need them soonest."

"Unless you have more evidence – "

He waves a hand, as though evidence on rapes and murders is unimportant. "We're picking him up for assault of a police officer."

Fin and Lake are clustered around the door of Cragen's office. As Casey approaches she hears a radio crackle: "—in pursuit – the bus?"

"On its way," the captain says. He nods at Casey and taps his desk, impatient. Over the radio there is a thud and heavy breathing.

"Lost him."

"How?" Cragen demands.

"He had half a block's head start and was waving a bloody knife, that's how. Got around the corner and disappeared."

The detectives shift uneasily. "Security cameras," Lake mutters.

"Captain," says the voice over the radio, desperate. "_Please_."

"All right," Cragen sighs. "Go back and take care of your partner."

Casey finds her voice. "Shit."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. Subsequent chapters will be longer; I just wanted to break it here. . . for the evility of it all . . . ._


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! (One of you appears to be psychic.) Yes, most chapters will be longer than the first. I'm seven ahead now and they keep growing. So since I know you all want it . . .

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_Attempt the impossible in order to improve your work. _

– _Bette Davis_

* * *

_Go!_ she yelled as he drew near, her voice doubled in the earpiece he wore, and he went. _He went_. Now he tears back along the city street, praying as hard as he ever has in his life. Swearing at the people in his way, the same ones who parted for a man waving a bloody knife, but not for one with a Glock pointed at the ground.

She has fallen in front of a bakery; Elliot flings himself onto his knees at his partner's side and surveys the kid – young man, really – bending over her. "Who the hell are you?"

The kid points at the bakery, as though this is explanation enough. "I'm trained in first aid, I swear!"

"El," Olivia says from the sidewalk. "He's fine." Her voice is weak, a fact explained by the sheer amount of blood spattered over the concrete. Elliot turns his attention back to the kid.

"And you've . . . ."

"Put her feet up." On two boxes of doughnuts, but whatever works. "I'm trying to apply pressure, but – " He draws away, hands full of bloody cloth, to reveal the mess that is Olivia's right side. Elliot feels sick, forces himself to think. The knife must have turned, or she did, or Micelli twisted around her, from back to front. It has to have been from the back . . . .

"Elliot," she is saying.

"Shut up," he says absently, directing the kid's hands back to their blood-staunching.

"El," she says insistently, tugging on his sleeve with her free hand. He notices for the first time that one hand is tucked under her.

"What?"

She pulls the hand free. "I got his wallet. No credit cards. But unless he's got more cash on him –"

"He'll have to use ID," Elliot finishes. He slips a pair of gloves on and takes the wallet, which turns out to contain several thousand dollars cash. He whistles. "He was going to hide from a paper trail. Liv, I gotta hand it to you." Actually he's in awe.

Her answering smile fades quickly, replaced by pain. She tries to lever herself up on an elbow. "How bad is it?"

Elliot pushes her back down, but not before she's managed to make herself white with the effort. "Don't worry. The bus is on its way." This is unnecessary, as sirens are now roaring up the street, but he has to say something.

Olivia is not fooled. Her hand finds his. "El, how bad is it?"

When she has his gaze like that he can't lie to her. "He did a number on you," Elliot admits. "He's good."

"Well," she says as paramedics begin to swarm around them. "If he wasn't, this would just be embarrassing."

* * *

At some point during the interminable ambulance ride, Olivia passes out and her holding his hand turns the other way around. Elliot has been at the side of enough victims to know that she could be aware without being able to tell him so. So he stays were he is. He stays with the hospital gurney until it heads into the OR and the nurses pry him away, their voices and hands gentle. They steer him to a chair in a waiting room where he sits and calls in.

"How is she?" Cragen asks immediately.

"I don't know." Elliot lets out a long breath. _Think like a cop, dammit._ "She passed out halfway here. Up till then she still had her sense of humor. I dunno. Captain, he tore her apart."

"So she's …"

"In emergency surgery." Involuntarily he glances at the door to the OR. "She got his wallet. I handed it off to a uniform before we left. Fin and Lake picking this up?"

"Just called to tell me about it."

"Good. Cap, is there anything I can do from here?"

"Do you have access to a computer?"

"No."

"Then no. I'll call if I need you. Keep me updated."

* * *

In the time before she's due in court she could take a break or a nap or a burger. Instead Casey bends her steps towards George Huang. "Knock, knock."

He glances up at her, then back down at his papers. Casey takes a step closer. "Can we talk?"

"You need a shrink?"

She frowns at his tone. "_No_, I just thought – " She stops herself. "You heard what happened?"

"A lot of things have happened. However, I get the feeling that you're talking about one in particular."

"I thought you didn't want to shrink me."

A crease appears between his brows, the closest he comes to showing upset. "Yes, I heard about Olivia. Do you know any more how she's doing?"

Casey paces before his desk, anxious. "No. Last I heard she was in surgery. Of course, that was only half an hour ago. God." She sinks into a chair and tries to still her hands.

"She'll be okay," George says.

"_Now_ you're shrinking me."

"No, I'm not."

She acknowledges the point. Probably it is unethical for a shrink to make false promises. "I let him go. George, I let him go and look what – "

"I advised you to let him go."

"I would have had to anyway. There was nothing, legally, to justify his arrest." Casey props her forehead in her hands. "But I know you did. That's why I came here."

"We couldn't have known."

"You _told_ me he would dig his own grave. And he did that. If they can find him now."

"I had no idea he would do it the way he did."

"But _I_ should have anticipated it." Casey sighs and looks up. "You're going to tell me that we can't change what happened."

"Well. We can't."

"Elliot won't see it like that."

"Elliot's having a very difficult day."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. It's AP test time and I shouldn't be updating, but the reviews make me so happy . . . ._


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See all previous.

A/N: Thanks again to everybody who reviewed, and thanks to the lurkers even though I'd love you even more for reviewing. One AP test down, one to go.

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_Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain._

– _Kairos 166_

* * *

When the doctor comes toward him, Elliot jumps from his seat as though shocked and flashes his badge at the man's questioning look. "How is she?"

The doctor, tall and haggard, motions for him to sit down. Elliot refuses. It's the same old trick. They make you sit down for bad news. "She's in recovery," the doctor says, bracingly.

"But?" Elliot demands. The sit-down gesture again; he fists his hands at his sides.

"She coded. Twice."

"Coded," he repeats stupidly.

"Her heart stopped."

"I know what it means," Elliot snaps. His own heart is racing. "But is she going to be all right?"

"I can't say for sure yet. We're going to continue surgery when she's more stable."

Elliot fixes on the latter part. He feels better knowing that something is being done, that there's a plan beyond 'wait and see.' "When can I see her?"

"After that next surgery. She needs to be kept quiet in between."

"But – "

"Excuse me." The man hurries away towards a stretcher surrounded by lab coats.

"I can keep her quiet," Elliot mutters to the air. Well, doctors are busy, after all. He approaches the nurses' station, prepared, in a distant sort of way, to argue. As hard as it takes. Because he doesn't like the idea of his partner waking up in the hospital all alone.

Staffing the desk is a large black woman whose nametag reads Leticia. Elliot puts on his most charming smile. "I need to see Olivia Benson?"

"And you are?"

"Her partner," he says, showing her his badge. He's not sure she even hears the words.

"Family only in recovery."

"I don't think you understand – "

"I saw Dr. Johnson briefing you, Detective. Your investigation can continue later."

Elliot slams his badge onto the ledge separating them. "I'm her _partner_," he seethes. "I'm next of kin; look it up."

Eyebrows disappearing into her hairline, the nurse obeys. "_You_ are her half-brother . . . Simon Marsden?"

"I – what?" He didn't know Olivia was even in touch with her brother. He didn't think she'd change such a thing without telling him.

"What is your name?" she asks with an air of great patience. He shakes it off: there are more important things to worry about just now.

"Elliot Stabler," he tells her, "and I _used_ to be next of kin. Has anyone tried to get in touch with this guy?"

"As a matter of fact – "

"Ten bucks says the number's no longer in service."

"Uncanny detective work," she mutters. "The fact remains – "

"That right now I'm all the family she's got," he presses. "C'mon, Leticia." He tries the charming smile again. "Cut us a break. I'll be good."

"What exactly is there between you and Ms. Benson?" she asks, suspicious.

_Detective._ Elliot keeps the smile pasted on his face. Nine years, that's between them. Nine years, countless victims, hurtful words and tacit trust.

As he is attempting to stare her down, a younger woman comes up behind her and gives him the once-over. "Who's this?" she asks Leticia.

Well. Apparently the charming works on _her._

"Elliot Stabler," Leticia grouses. "A detective who's stalking your patient."

"Who is also a detective," he points out.

The second nurse, however, is already looking at him with new eyes. "_You're_ Elliot. She's been asking for you."

"She's awake?"

"In and out. We don't want to give her anything to strong, for the pain, you know. But when she _was_ awake, first thing she looked around for you."

Elliot looks appealingly at Leticia. These revelations make his heart twist painfully, but they probably help his case.

The older woman glances back and forth between them. "Well, Janet," she finally says, "I won't tell if you don't."

* * *

The first thing she hears is someone arguing. This doesn't bother her at all and she doesn't know why. After a moment she registers that the voice is familiar, but that should be more upsetting than an angry stranger, not less so.

It's Elliot, she finally realizes, and judging by the number of times he uses the word "Captain," he's not yelling at her. That explains it.

She cracks an eye open and spots him immediately, a fact which distracts her. If she's in the hospital, shouldn't she be on her back?

Elliot is in the corner on his cell phone. "No" seems to be the main thrust of his argument. "I won't," he's saying, then stops to listen. "I understand that, Cap, but I can't leave her alone right now."

At this moment Olivia loves her partner more than she thought possible. Also she wants to smack him upside the head.

However, she has the feeling that her body wouldn't cooperate. "El," she says, her voice coming out in a whisper.

Instantly he glances up and sees her watching him. "Give me a minute," he tells Cragen, and he slides into the chair next to her, his phone slung carelessly on the floor underneath. "Liv. Welcome back."

She tries to roll off her side, but he stops her. "What happened?"

"How much do you remember?"

"We were in the bus . . . and then I was here, and I couldn't – find you – " His mouth twitches and she hurries on. "And then I was here."

"You didn't miss much." Either he's lying or she's just that tired. "You went into emergency surgery. That's about it."

She ignores the way her stomach rolls at the thought of an operating table. "Why -- ?" She tries to turn again; again his hand lands on her shoulder.

"Don't. He got you like this." He traces the wound on his own body, from the lower back around the right side. "They don't want you putting pressure on it."

"Oh. Right." She glances toward the phone, abandoned on the floor. "What's Cragen want you for?"

"Ah." Elliot settles back in his chair, exasperated. "To back up Munch."

Olivia laughs, then regrets it as pain erupts along her side. "So go," she manages. "John's street skills are rusty; he probably needs it."

He shakes his head, mute, determined. Time slows; she studies the crevices of her partner's face. He's holding himself together, but barely. "Elliot. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," he says, too quickly.

"Uh-huh." Well, he can keep his secrets for a while; she's too tired to drag the truth from him just now. "So 'nothing' is going to keep you sitting around here instead of out keeping Munch from getting knifed?"

His face freezes. She hopes she isn't making him feel guilty; but if Munch needs backup, what the hell is he doing here?

"Liv," he starts weakly.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Elliot, but I'm a big girl. Get out there. Please."

He stares at her for a moment, then picks up the phone. "Captain. Yeah. Where am I going?" He glances up to her. "Cap's calling John. You sure about this?"

"Yeah." She doesn't relish the idea of his leaving her, but. "Come back later?"

"As soon as I can."

"Without ditching Munch," she reminds him. "And watch yourself."

"Right." Elliot presses her hand briefly. "Stay with me, Liv, okay?"

"I can't exactly go anywhere."

The smile that flits across his face is forced; he backs towards the door. "And watch out for the fat nurse."

"Elliot!"

"She thinks you and I are – you know."

Olivia forces herself not to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. Now go."

With one last smile he disappears.

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_TBC..._

_R&R with anything you want to say . . . questions, comments, etc..._


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See previous.

Thanks for the response! I love you all!

* * *

_Never discourage anyone who continually makes progress, no matter how slow. _

– _Plato_

* * *

"How's Olivia?"

"How's the investigation?" Elliot counters.

John looks him over from behind his sunglasses. "Fin and Lake are canvassing the block where Micelli disappeared."

"And we are?"

"Did you listen when Cragen talked at you?"

Elliot just stares at him, as if to say, _isn't it obvious?_ "No."

"_We_ are searching his house."

Snorting in disgust, Elliot shoves open the door of the squad car. "So let's go."

"Hey!" John hurries after him. "Elliot. How's she doing?"

The other man refuses to look at him. "She's level-headed enough to make me come here. Make of it what you will."

He makes nothing of it; Olivia is always level-headed, at least in comparison with the rest of them. John surveys Elliot's back. Maybe he'll be able to do the job better, not knowing.

* * *

"Everybody remembers seeing him," Lake says. "That's not the problem."

"So what _is_ the problem?" Cragen prompts.

Sighing, Lake glances down the alley at his partner. "They all point him down the same alley. So far we haven't found anyone who's seen him come out the other end, the only way he could have gone. He dumped the knife, though; CSU's got it."

"As small favors go, that is miniscule. We _know_ who held that knife."

"Hence problems, Cap. We're going to canvass all the buildings on the other end."

"Get to it then," Cragen snaps, and hangs up before Lake has a chance to ask after Olivia.

"He say how she is?" Fin queries as soon as he catches up.

"Nah, he said to get to work. And to keep cool if we find him." The captain didn't actually say this, but they both need to hear it.

"Keep cool," Fin snorts. "Right. Keep from killin' him, maybe. Should we – nah."

_Should we call Elliot?_ Lake wouldn't dare, even though the uncertainty is making him jumpy. He can't know how to feel until he knows whether Olivia will survive.

"C'mon," Fin says. "Sooner we find the bastard, sooner Novak can lock 'im up."

* * *

"They found the knife."

"Great crowd parter," Elliot says bitterly. "He won't be as noticeable without it." He rifles through Chris Micelli's dresser drawers with ruthless force, then moves to the desk. "Sonofabitch."

John steps up behind him and sucks in his breath. The photos were clearly taken at the one-six; there are close-ups of each of the squad and the captain and even a few shots of Casey.

Elliot shuffles through the stack, pausing over one. "How the _fuck_ did he get a camera in?" His hands are trembling.

"He couldn't've. Fin patted him down. Besides." John picks up the picture that Elliot is lingering over, a shot of Olivia looking up, over their desks, laughing. "Cell phone camera."

"How can you tell?"

"Anything else would have better resolution. So." He waits, but Elliot seems to be having trouble catching up to him. "Neither Micelli nor his other identity owns a cell."

Elliot presses his hands flat on the desk, managing to stop their shaking. "We would've noticed him hanging around anyway." He picks up the next photo, Cragen in debrief mode, and examines the timestamp in the lower corner. "Taken while we had him in custody. Damn, he moves fast. Or his accomplice does."

"So we're looking for a techno geek." John drops his picture and begins pulling books off the shelves.

"Like you. Damn."

"One thing I don't get," John says reflectively. "Those are of all of us. Why Olivia?"

"She was half a block behind me," Elliot says promptly, voice taut. "If he'd picked me she might have warned me. As it was – " He shoves Micelli's desk chair into the desk, so hard that it bounces back and hits the floor. "Dammit, Munch, why didn't you dig this up?"

"Me?" John demanded. "Dig _what _up?"

"That he has a crony. That he was stalking us. God, any of it. We should have had enough to nail him to the wall in the first place!"

"But we didn't," John says, keeping a careful eye on the other man's fists. Without Olivia around, an angry Elliot is even more of a problem than usual, and John doesn't really care to get decked. "None of us did. Not me, not you, not the captain. Not Olivia."

"Shut up," Elliot growls.

John begins to consider backing away. "How's she doing, Elliot?"

Elliot is taking in deep, shaky breaths that remind him of a bull, about to charge. "I need to get back there," he grits out. "Before she goes into surgery again. That's how."

_So you hate me because I'm keeping you away._ "Well," he says. "Once we serve the warrant I'm back at the precinct. I've got paperwork for you in the car."

As the conversation turns towards normalcy they both relax slightly. "You what?"

John shrugs. "Cap'n figured you'd want to go back, said you might as well do something useful."

* * *

"An accomplice," Casey repeats. "Captain, I need a name before I can get you any kind of warrant for him."

"I haven't lost my wits, Counselor. I'm keeping you updated."

Casey lets out a long breath and counts to ten. "I know. I appreciate that." She sinks onto the edge of the nearest desk, Fin's. "Is there anything I _can_ do, yet?"

"I won't waste any time calling when there is. We may need an eleventh hour warrant. You get the idea."

"Anything. Believe me, any judge will want these guys caught almost as much as we do."

"Almost," Cragen repeats.

"Well." Casey hops off the desk and reaches for her bag. "They don't know Olivia like we do, but she's still one of our own."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R every single review makes my day._


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See previous.

A/N: Uhm. Well. Clearly, after Tuesday night, parts of this story are now AU, unless you'd like to put it on a mental timeline just before the finale. Whatever. (Can I just say that that was frickin' intense.) Also this chapter is shorter than usual, sorry, but I'll try to update again soon and I like reviews.

* * *

_Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt._

_– Jane Addams_

* * *

When he hesitates over the threshold, she hears his footsteps. Her eyes light up and she holds out a hand, a gesture so unlike Olivia that it throws him off-kilter. After a moment of confusion he takes the hand. "Hey."

"That was quick," she says. He is struck anew by the weariness in her voice, as though everything she's suffered has finally found an excuse to surface. He glances away.

"Just needed to search the house. Fin and Lake've got uniforms helping 'em out." Elliot studies the floor. Why is this so hard to say? "I wanted to be back before you have to go into surgery again."

Her hand tightens around his, sharply. "I thought you said they already – "

"They did." He won't tell her that she coded, not yet. Telling her might make it real. Fingers going numb, he meets her eyes. What he sees there does nothing to improve his mood. "Liv. Don't freak out. You'll be fine."

"I'm not freaking out," she says unconvincingly, dropping his hand, closing her eyes. Guilt claws at him: she's exhausted. "Tell me what's going on," she orders softly.

"Maybe you should – "

Olivia opens one eye to glare at him. "Talk, Stabler."

Her eyes stand out in a face too pale; her voice, though it keeps the strength that makes her Olivia, is somehow lacking. And, for whatever reason, she's scared.

Hell. He's afraid for her.

"Micelli's got help," he begins.

* * *

"Heard anything?" John asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

Cragen doesn't look up. "About Olivia, no. About Micelli, I'd better hear from you. Talk."

John hands his captain a photo of himself, poring over a map with his detectives. "This is one of many, taken with a cell phone camera while Micelli was in custody. I'm on my way to pull the security cameras now."

"Good. We should be getting a few tapes from Fin soon. You've got some watching to do."

"Yes, sir." He turns to go, but Cragen's voice stops him.

"What ever happened to our cameras being the eyes of Big Brother?"

"Things change," John mutters, and tries to hurry away.

"How's Elliot?"

"Distracted, guilt-ridden, angry. Can I go now?" John glances back to see the weight of the world on his captain's shoulders.

"Go," Cragen says.

* * *

Elliot's phone rings partway through the telling; seeing that it's Fin, he punches speaker. "Stabler and Benson."

"Liv!" Fin says, plainly surprised. "How you doing?"

She opens her eyes to carry on the conversation, as though he can see her through the phone line. "Doin' okay. You got something?"

"Man," Fin complains, "here I am trying to be all friendly and concerned, and she changes the subject."

"She's tricky like that," Elliot agrees. "But she'll be all right." He avoids her eyes. "_Do_ you have something?"

"Half the reason I called was to ask about that. Liv, you're scarin' the hell out of us here, and your partner don't help."

"He's tricky like that," Olivia deadpans. "Really. They're fixing me up. What was the other half of the reason you called?"

"To tell you that we got about a hundred witness statements and no lead. Liv, we need details about you."

"Yeah, drag them out of El later. You must have _something_."

"Nothin' useful since the knife, but your partner knows about that."

"I'm still here," Elliot interjects.

Fin continues, ignoring him, "Micelli is apparently an escape artist, in addition to everythin' else. But we'll get him. Lake says to come back to us soon, aright? I've gotta go read all these statements."

"Yeah, I'll call you later."

Olivia watches him hang up, more alert now. Has he been putting her to sleep? That might not be a problem, he figures. "What about the knife?" she asks. "You didn't mention that."

"I've been a bit busy with the part of the investigation I actually witnessed." He tips his chair back on two legs. Wobble. "They picked it up in the alley he went down after I lost him. That's about it."

She grimaces. "'S not much."

Wobble. "Exactly. I thought you'd rather hear the more interesting news before you pass out on me."

"I will not!"

"Hey, it's already happened once today." Elliot almost falls backwards and grabs the tiny bedside stand for support. "Second time for everything."

From the door comes a discreet cough. "Detective Benson?" says the nurse Janet. "It's time to go."

And Olivia panics.

* * *

_TBC..._

_So, um, to leave it there... R&R if you want to find out what happens next..._


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_A friend loveth at all times. _

_-Proverbs 17:17_

* * *

Elliot lets his chair crash to the floor; he can't take his eyes from his partner, who is having trouble breathing yet has enough air to call his name over and over. "No, please," she begs, "please, El, don't let them take me, no – "

He spares a glance for the nurses, dumbstruck in the doorway, then crouches beside Olivia and grabs her hand. "Liv," he says, mouth dry, sending up so many prayers that he doesn't know what each is for.

She trips over a sob. "El? Don't leave me, please – "

"Never. Liv, it's gonna be okay, I swear. Look at me, c'mon." He catches the side of her face and directs her attention towards him; when he holds her gaze she stops muttering. "Good. That's it, look at me. You'll be fine."

"Why?" Her voice cracks over the word, choked out between shallow breaths.

_Who are you and what have you done with my partner?_

"Why couldn't they do it earlier?" she asks, her eyes pleading with him. He hates this so much that it makes him nauseous.

"They wanted to wait until you were more stable," he tells her, fighting to remain calm.

She's still breathing too fast, still terrified. "I don't feel very stable, Elliot."

"But you are." The words tumble from him because they are the absolute truth. "You're the most stable person I know."

That stops her, brings her ragged breaths to a more regular tempo. Instinctively Elliot smoothes her hair away from her face, her hand clammy in his. "You'll be fine. I'll sit right outside the whole time, okay?"

"Promise," she whispers, and his heart breaks.

"I swear, Liv, I won't leave you until you kick me out." Unable to bear the trust in her eyes, he looks to the cluster of nurses in the doorway. "They have to take you now, all right?"

She sucks in a breath and renews her grip on his hand. "Okay."

Once again he is allowed to come along as far as the OR door, where the nurses are patient enough to wait for Olivia to drop his hand on her own. "El," she says, a hint of a question.

"Right here." He forces a smile, the last thing she sees as they wheel her away.

Then he stumbles back against the wall and lets himself crumble.

* * *

Casey can't concentrate. She shoves a stack of files across her desk and drops her head onto the cool wood, making the excuses to herself for quitting for the day. All her open cases have been taken as far as they can. Everybody else has left already. She's on hypersensitive call anyway.

She can't work overwrought like this, knowing that she set a murderer free to stab a friend.

When she reaches the one-six it still has not shut down; she easily finds Munch with his eyes glued to a video screen. He hands her a printout of a young woman with a dark braid flung over one shoulder. "Recognize?"

"No."

"Neither does anyone else so far. It's the one taking pictures of us."

Casey's skin crawls; she drops the sheet onto the nearest desk. "This girl's helping Micelli rape and murder women? How sick is that?"

"We won't know until we find her. Fin talked to Liv earlier."

She stares at him, taken aback. "How'd you know why I came here?"

"ESP. Called Elliot to update and got 'em both. Liv says she's fine, but my illustrious former partner didn't think she sounded so good."

"But it's a good sign." She hears herself as from a distance, half asking, half telling.

"_I _think so."

"Good. Anything you need me for yet?"

"Not yet."

"Then I guess I'm going home, but call – "

He waves her away. "We get it. Go get some sleep; somebody needs to."

Elliot picks up on the first ring. "No," he says without giving her a chance to speak. "I'm sorry, Cap, but I'm not moving from this spot."

"It's Casey."

"Oh. Sorry."

She ignores the apology. "I just wanted to talk to Liv."

Silence stretches between them, elastic. Finally he says, "She's in surgery."

"Again? Why?"

"Because," he says, voice taut.

She will not get mad. "But she's gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't _know._ And maybe if you hadn't let this happen in the _first _place – "

Casey takes a step back, forgetting that he is nowhere near her. She hears him exhaling slowly, calming himself down.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says quietly. "I promised her I wouldn't leave her."

This is the kind of detail she really doesn't need to know. The conversation is only adding to her own anxiety, but something in Elliot's voice is too painful to witness. "You want me to tell Cragen for you?"

"Smart. Didn't think of that."

"Then I will. Give her my love, Elliot."

She thinks she hears him mutter _She needs it_ before he hangs up.

* * *

"He's a mess," Casey says frankly.

Don wants to bang his head on the desk. He reviews mentally: one of his detectives is a physical disaster, another is an emotional disaster, the rest are lesser disasters. And the perp has outsmarted them all.

It's times like this that make him seriously consider a drink.

"I'm taking off." Casey's voice startles him; he's forgotten she's there. She watches him cautiously, as though frightened he might take offense. But this is _their _job. Probably the ADA should sleep now, since he knows she'll be tireless prosecuting Micelli.

Then again, even without work to do he can't see her getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

_TBC..._

_So. . . thanks to__**xXBlissfulCursesXx **for being the only person to review the last chapter . . . in all seriousness I really really want feedback on this and the next few chapters in particular. Please drop a line and tell me what you think. Tell me I need to do review replies. Whatever._


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you till it seems you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn._

– _Harriet Beecher Stowe_

* * *

After hours too harsh and brittle to count, they bring Olivia back to him; they stick the two of them in a curtained half-room that may or may not be the same as the one they were in earlier. They tell him that he may stay; they order him not to get her excited; they say her chances look good but they don't seem to understand how much he hates the word _chance._

When they leave Elliot pulls up a chair and watches her sleep. It is very late, he knows, but time has become so elastic that he somehow can't read his watch properly. The hours always flow funny when a serialist is on the loose, but this is different and he doesn't really want to figure out how.

Olivia looks different asleep. Fragile, in the soft white hospital gown, but also strangely peaceful. He's noticed this phenomenon before – the kids are never obnoxious conked out; Kathy is never jealous. His family, though, doesn't need to be asleep to be happy.

Lately it seems like his partner does. His partner, who simply has not been able to catch a break. His partner, strong, independent, who just hours ago begged him to stay with her.

If he weren't in a hospital, he'd punch something.

_El, El, Elliot._ He can hear her voice from a dozen different angles, calling his name. _El, don't leave me, please._ She shouldn't have had to say it. He should have let her know better, with everything she's been going through. Women need that. He's always forgetting that she's a woman. She's just -- Olivia.

Constant.

There.

Damn, it must be late if he's getting so philosophical.

The chair has a fairly high back. And armrests. Okay for a nap. He'll be gone the second his eyes close anyway, he knows it.

Before he goes to sleep he picks up her hand in both his own. Just so that she'll know he's there.

* * *

"Kathy," Cragen says calmly, cursing himself for forgetting Mrs. Stabler. It's nearly midnight and his detectives – the ones with family, anyway – should have called home by now.

He doesn't blame Elliot for forgetting.

"Your husband's fine," he tells her.

"He's not answering his cell," she frets.

Don rubs his temples. Yes, Kathy is worried, but an anxious wife is the last thing he needs right now. "Olivia's been hospitalized. I heard from your husband not long ago. He's staying with her."

Over the phone line he can hear her deflate. "What happened?"

"I'd rather let Elliot tell you that. I wasn't there." And he might as well practice on his wife for the report he's supposed to be writing.

"But will she be all right?" Kathy persists.

"We don't know for sure yet. I'm told it looks good." Don considers the ways to forestall further conversation. "He forgot to call, Kathy; he's not hurt. He's taking this hard. It's distracting. That's all. If you like I could send someone over to check on you."

"Have you caught the guy yet? The one who did this?"

He hates to say it. It makes it sound as if the department can't take care of its own. Unfortunately the only alternative is lying. "Not yet."

"Then thank you, Captain, but we'll manage."

A detective's wife through and through. Don smiles into the phone. "If he checks in I'll tell him to call you."

"If he calls me I'll tell him to check in," she says dryly.

* * *

Elliot wakes when her hand moves in his. "El," she mumbles, groggy.

"I'm here." He shakes off the vestiges of sleep and squeezes her hand. "Liv, you did great."

"Didn' do anythin'," she mutters before drifting off again.

He's wide awake, though, and he can read his watch now. Three in the morning is no time to call home. "Liv," he says, tentatively, and when she doesn't react he frees a hand and dials the precinct.

"Detective Munch."

"John, it's Elliot."

"Call your wife."

This is so far removed from the past day that it takes a moment to get through his skull. "It's too late."

"I sincerely hope you're referring to the fact that your family is probably fast asleep, unlike us."

What else would he be referring to? "I'll call when it's light. You got anything?"

"I sent you a picture of the photographer; did you get it?"

Elliot considers slapping himself.

"You didn't check for messages, did you?"

"Screw you." _I can screw you harder_, he hears, and shuts that corner of his brain up.

"How's Liv?" John asks, serious now.

"Came through all right." Elliot scrutinizes their linked hands and wonders if he is telling the truth. "We'll know more soon, I guess. She's sleepin'."

"Alright, give her my best. Tell her we're all rooting for her."

"I will."

"And check out the picture. You don't call back, I'll assume you don't recognize her. No-one does, yet. Still running the tapes."

"Okay, thanks, John."

"We'll get him," John says, by way of goodbye.

Elliot makes sure his partner is still asleep before he scrolls through his messages. Three from Kathy, all wondering where he is; a blissfully ignorant text from Maureen; and a photo of a dark-haired young woman, dressed to pass as one belonging in the one-six. Still, it's remarkable that he's never seen her in his life. She had pictures of him, after all.

Maybe Olivia will remember her. She notices these things.

The screen of his phone informs him that it's Sunday.

Elliot suddenly feels very pious. He slips from his chair to kneel, still clutching Olivia's hand. She'd better not wake up to witness this, or he'll never hear the end of it. He closes his eyes and bows his head and lets the quiet of the night and soft footsteps and her breathing settle around him

_In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit._ Prayer, a pattern more familiar even than his partnership.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Thanks for the response to the last chapter. It seems people want quicker updates... I want to stay several chapters ahead of myself but I'll try. Please R&R, I love you all..._


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See previous.

I'm sorry; I meant to update yesterday but the internet at home is screwy. I had to get this emailed to me from home to post now. I'm working on the whole speed thing.

* * *

_Time falls away_

_But these small hours_

_These small hours_

_Still remain_

–_Rob Thomas_

* * *

It never really gets quiet or dark in a hospital. He knew that, intellectually, but he's never thought about it. Somewhere a low light is glowing, and the gurgling of the IV and the murmurs of the nurses add a backbeat to a bubble, their bubble, that shuts out space and time and other people.

This must be what it feels like to be alone in a crowd.

"Liv," he says.

She mutters something that sounds like "Shutup'n' lemme sleep." Elliot suppresses a smile.

"Liv. I know you can hear me."

Grunting in affirmation, she forces an eye open. "_What?_"

"Shh," he says automatically, rubbing her arm until her eyes flutter shut once more. "I just want you to know," he tells her quietly, "that I meant what I said before. You're the most stable person I know. You're the strongest." It's easier to say when she's not actually looking at him. "Stay with me," he whispers.

Olivia is by now mostly asleep again. But within the circle of his hand hers turns palm up, and she squeezes back.

* * *

"Kath," he says when she answers the phone, "I'm sorry I didn't call last night, I just – "

"It's okay. Captain Cragen filled me in. Mostly." Lizzie is nodding over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table; Kathy catches her eye and points her toward Eli and the jar of baby food. "What exactly happened?"

"How much did he tell you?"

"Just that Olivia's in the hospital and you're staying with her." Kathy does not add her own mixed feelings about this. Whatever she may have feared about her husband's partner in the past is overshadowed by the woman's need for support right now. She can't fault either of them for that.

Elliot doesn't answer for so long that she prompts, "Was she shot?" It's a logical assumption.

"No," he says, "stabbed. She's had two surgeries and it looks good, but still critical."

"It's good that you're staying with her," she says because she doesn't know what else to say. The worry in Elliot's voice is palpable, and the guilt.

_You're his partner,_ she remembers saying to Olivia, once. _You give him stability._

"God, Kath," he says in a low voice. "She's a mess. Had some sort of panic attack when they came to take her to the OR. I've never – ever – " He changes the subject. "How is everything?"

"We'll be okay," Kathy assures him. Because they will. They've done it before. "When do you think you'll be home?"

"Not until this bastard's in a cage where he belongs." The ferocity in his voice makes her grip the counter. He must know this because he goes on more gently, "As soon as I can, baby, but it'll be a while. I love you."

"Love you too."

"Give the kids my love; tell Liz to go easy on the Mountain Dew."

Kathy picks up the can of soda that her daughter has abandoned for the baby and hides it behind the toaster. God, he's good. "I will. Tell Olivia that I'm letting her have you strictly on loan and I expect you back in good condition." It'll make the woman laugh, at least, and apparently she needs it.

Lizzie looks up at her when she hangs up the phone. "Olivia's in the hospital? Why?" She holds a tiny spoon in one hand, tickling Eli with the other.

"Honey. She got hurt on the job."

_I'm a big girl_ flashes in her daughter's eyes, but Lizzie lets it go. "Is Dad okay?"

"He said to give up the Mountain Dew."

Instantly Lizzie glances back at her cereal bowl. "Mom! Give it back!"

* * *

Morning finds Fin on the front porch of a cranky old woman living across from Chris Micelli. "Sure I've seen her," she's telling Lake. "Drew Spence's kid. Odd duck. Christine, her name is. She's in trouble? I'm not surprised."

"She and Mr. Spence are causing trouble." Lake has a trick with old ladies. Fin tends to scare them, so he hangs back. "Are you sure they're father and daughter?"

"They've got no business living together if they're not," she sniffs self-righteously. "She says she lived with her mother till the woman died, you know; but I've _heard_ her father sued for custody, fat lot of good it did _him._"

Fin spots the car they've got sitting on the Micelli house. Nobody's been back there, of course, but they can't be too careful.

"Moved in six months ago," she says, responding to a question he didn't hear. "Keep to themselves mostly. 'Course nobody talks to their neighbors anymore, do they? No, I don't know where they might go."

* * *

God, she's tired. Unfortunately her head is throbbing and her mind is racing and neither will let her go back to sleep.

She has the nagging feeling she's recently embarrassed herself. Hopefully only in front of Elliot. She can deal with that. She'll have to, it looks like, since he's sitting right next to her, engrossed in what looks suspiciously like paperwork.

He notices her watching him and glances up. "Liv," he says, a smile in his voice. "Welcome back."

"Hi," she groans, because she's just remembered how she humiliated herself. _Shit._ Something of this must show, because that smile creeps across his face and it almost looks real.

"Welcome back in more ways than one, it seems," he says, tone light, and visibly shrugs the subject away. "Honestly, Liv, you're doing great."

_Then why are you still here? _she thinks, but she doesn't ask because she remembers. _I swear, Liv, I won't leave you._ God. She files this away to think about later.

Elliot holds out his cell phone to her; a girl is on the screen. "Do you recognize her?"

She takes the phone with her free right hand, tilting it to see properly. It'd be nice to sit up, but she doesn't think her head or Elliot would allow it. She remembers the girl, though, pale skin and dark hair and nervousness. "Yeah, I do."

He isn't paying good enough attention. "Neither does – you do?"

"She was hanging around so I asked if she needed help. Said she was a new administrative assistant." Olivia hands the phone back, resigned. "Who is she really?"

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R I really do appreciate every single review, even the ones that are five words long. Although more specific comments are loved even more. :P_


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See previous.

As requested, updating soonish...

* * *

_Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened. _

– _Winston Churchill_

* * *

He's ticking it off on his fingers. "Casey sends her love, Munch said to tell you they're all rooting for you, and Kathy said – let me get this straight – that she's letting you have me on loan and she wants me back in good condition."

"When have I not sent you back to your wife in good condition?" Olivia demands.

"Oh, so I'm officially a commodity."

She's still laughing over this when the doctor knocks and enters. He frowns at Elliot. "Do I know you?"

"Elliot Stabler. We met yesterday." He doesn't offer a hand to shake. She realizes he's holding hers. Has he been doing that all along?

Well. As long as he doesn't seem to notice, she's not going to give up the anchor.

The doctor – Johnson, his nametag says – is looking at her now, smiling. That has to be a good sign. "You can relax now," he says kindly. "All your signs look great, Ms. Benson. I'll be keeping you for a few days for observation, after that scare you gave us in the OR, and then I'll let you go home."

Elliot's hand tightens around hers, cutting off circulation. She's too confused to shake him off; she hadn't realized all this was still a question.

Dr. Johnson looks between them and, evidently deciding to be tactful, says he'll be back if she has any questions. When he's gone she looks to her partner. "They really do think we're . . . ."

He laughs shortly and drops her hand. Olivia rubs it absently. "What did he mean, 'that scare in the OR'?"

"You coded," he says briefly, without looking at her.

"And you didn't think to mention that before?" No wonder he was so skittish about leaving her alone.

"Yeah, well," he says to the floor.

"Damn you," she mutters, but she doesn't mean it. He's just trying to look out for her. As long as he doesn't make a habit of it. "You should get back to work, El."

He sits back with a sigh, looking her up and down. He's picked now to develop x-ray vision. "You sure?"

She's sure she wants him to forget about last night. "Well. I seem to be stuck here for a while, but we can't keep depriving the guys of both of us. I expect reports, though."

"Yes, ma'am." Elliot's jerky motions as he collects his jacket and papers and phone betray his eagerness to be out there, catching Chris Micelli and giving him what he deserves. He pauses at the door. "Liv."

"Yeah?"

Someone else might not notice his split second of hesitation. "I'll come by later," he says. Between them, she finds herself thinking, this ought to be enough.

"Later," she tells him.

* * *

Munch is stuck in front of the video screen with a thermos of coffee, Cragen is on the phone, unfamiliar faces are bustling around the room but those two turn towards Elliot as soon as he crosses the threshold. He wants to smile at their expressions – identical, anxious, expectant.

"Liv's gonna be fine," he tells them, the first time he's said it aloud and believed it, and in spite of everything a wholly stupid grin slides across his face. "Doc says she'll be fine."

John punches the air and takes a large gulp of coffee. Cragen, wrinkles shallower now, repeats the news into the receiver; and Fin's whoop of celebration penetrates the squad room.

"So you're with us now," John clarifies.

"I'm not resting until we catch both of them." Elliot joins him at the video monitor. "Micelli and his girlfriend."

"Or daughter," Cragen says, having gotten off the phone.

John grimaces. "I don't know if that's more or less twisted than girlfriend."

"As long as they're _not_ sleeping together, I'm inclined to say less." Cragen peers at Elliot. "You up to this?"

"Can't not be." Elliot meets his captain's gaze. Steady. He'll be steady.

"Then both of you," Cragen says. "Dig through Micelli's past records. This time look for kids."

* * *

With Elliot gone, Dr. Johnson returns to explain her condition in more detail. After he too leaves, Olivia's attempt to go back to sleep is foiled by the arrival of a woman who must be the nurse Elliot warned her about.

"So your man finally left," she remarks, bustling around the IV and monitors. Olivia groans inwardly and checks the nametag. Leticia.

"He's not my man," she informs Leticia.

"Uh-huh," Leticia says, pleased. "Well, he _is_ handsome, make no mistake."

"He's married."

"_Damn._" The nurse winks at her. "Quite a catch, that one. If you'd seen how hard he was fightin' to get to you, well."

"Fighting?" Olivia repeats, puzzled. "Why'd he have to fight?"

"Not family. Hospital policy, you know."

"But he's – oh." _He's my next of kin._ Only he's not, anymore. The last time she had to fill out those health forms, she was still excited about having found a brother. "I changed my next of kin," she murmurs. "Stupid."

"Your detective claimed he used to be it," Leticia says.

"He was." Olivia frowns at her. "You were the one he had to fight, weren't you?" The funny thing about this is that she can picture it with perfect clarity.

"Maybe," the nurse admits.

Olivia shrugs; she likes Leticia. Besides, a little verbal sparring never hurt Elliot. "He was it. I mean, he _should_ be. He _is._ I'm an idiot." She could slap herself. "Did someone try to get in touch with my brother?"

"I did. Number's no longer in service." Leticia hesitates. "We didn't try very hard after your detective argued his way in."

"It's okay," Olivia sighs. "Simon's unavailable in multiple ways." She lets the conversation lag until the nurse is at her door, ready to move on. "Leticia?"

"Yeah, honey?"

In her opinion the world could use a few more Leticias. Frank, dependable kind of people. "Do you know how I can change it back?" Olivia asks.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R some of you I haven't heard from in a while but I do love the reviews and they motivate quicker writing..._


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See previous.

This chapter references one of my previous stories, Coffee Break, which takes place just after the whole Lauren Cooper incident. Reading that probably isn't necessary to understand, but it wouldn't hurt...

* * *

_We can do no great things – only small things with great love. _

– _Kairos 166_

* * *

"Elliot!"

"Huh?" He looks up to find Casey across his desk, gaping at him. His brain takes a moment to catch up from a twenty-year-old rape case in Wheaton, Illinois. "Case, shit, I meant to call you."

"To tell me what?" she demands.

"That Liv's gonna be fine." He still likes the feel of the words on his tongue. _Fine. Okay. Back._ He likes watching Casey's reaction, too: watching her unravel as fast as they'd all been wound up.

"Thank God," she says fervently.

"I already did," he assures her.

Casey grins. "And how about – "

"I got it!" Everybody in the vicinity sits up straighter as Lake comes running. "At least I got something that looks a lot like it," he announces, breathless. "Cell phone registered to a Christine Spence, took a while to track down because she spelled the name different; also it was bought in Chicago."

Cragen, drawn by Lake's exuberance, arrives in time to hear the pertinent information. "Are you sure it's hers?"

"Not yet, but there's nothing registered to the regular spelling of her name, or to Christine Micelli, not in any service provider in the city."

They're all looking at Casey before he finishes. "How fast can you get a warrant to dump it?" Cragen asks.

She smiles in a wild, almost ferocious kind of way. "I'll make your head spin."

* * *

When her cell goes off, she's startled to realize that she still has it. Of course, Elliot kept it for her and forgot to mention that he'd stuck it in the drawer of the spindly metal thing that passes for a nightstand.

She's more startled to read the caller ID. "Kathy?"

"Olivia, hi. I heard you were doing better so I decided to call and get it from you."

"Well, I'm doing okay, thanks." She actually wants to take a nap, but it's so rare that she talks to Kathy: the thing they share is too tenuous and precious and also, unfortunately, has a mind of his own. She's always wanted to be closer but has let the wife set the boundaries.

A younger voice saves them from finding anything more to say. "Olivia! Remember me?"

"Nobody forgets Elizabeth Stabler."

"_Olivia,_" she says, exasperated.

"Lizzie," says Kathy warningly.

"I'm being good, Mom. Dickie says hi. He's out playing his video games. Mom said maybe I could bring Eli to come see you and give her some peace."

"Lizzie," they say together. Olivia goes on, "I'd like that."

"What happened?" the girl asks eagerly.

"She's got this morbid curiosity," Kathy apologizes.

"It's okay. I just got a little too close to the guy we were tailing."

"And Dad?"

"He was too far away to do anything. Just missed catching him."

"Oh." Disappointment threads Lizzie's voice. She's at the stage, Olivia suspects, where she'd _like_ to believe that her father can do anything.

"Thanks for letting me borrow him," she says, to both of them. "He's very good at fighting with nurses and doctors." They say her partner was the one Dr. Johnson was arguing with on the phone a few hours ago, though how the nurses know this she has no idea.

"I know," Kathy says, laughing. "He's so good at it he's obnoxious."

"Well," Lizzie says with all the assurance of her age. "If he wasn't obnoxious he wouldn't be _Dad._"

* * *

Fin and Lake are chasing a cell phone signal and for the rest of the unit, which amounts to three of them, Cragen orders a break. Elliot is too wired to sleep. Forced away from old case files, he drives and arrives at the little shop just before it closes. He thanks God for college students, out til all hours.

The night nurses remember him and offer only token resistance. He hears them tittering as he enters Olivia's room. They think he's solicitous, or maybe romantic. These ones weren't here when she panicked.

She's asleep again. Of course, most sane people are. He should be too. The exhaustion will catch up to him soon.

"Liv," he says quietly, and she rolls her head towards his voice without waking up. Suspicious, he presses a hand to her forehead: hot.

It takes two nurses to convince him that the infection is not serious, that she is in fact already responding to antibiotics. Mollified, he reenters her room and sets the paper cup on the tiny nightstand. He could leave a note, the impatient girl behind the counter gave him a napkin, but what would he say? Besides, she'll know. Her hair's stuck in her face; he pushes it back. Olivia knows these things.

Then he drives back to the precinct and returns to the case files.

* * *

Fin calls in the afternoon. "Guess what."

_Good news,_ John prays. "You got Christine?"

"She duct taped her cell to a truck. Deleted most of the pictures too; there's only one left, of Liv. Driver, of course, knows nothin'."

"Damn, when did they get so smart?" John stares across the room, unseeing. "So you just spent fifteen hours on a wild-goose chase."

"Yeah, luckily there was turns and backtracking involved so it won't take us that long to get back. Tell the lab it's urgent as soon as we're there."

He's barely relayed the news when Elliot holds up a hand and hangs up his own phone. "Woman in Illinois raped by Micelli twenty years ago had a girl, name of Marina Tazela. Mother reported her missing eight months ago."

* * *

Cloud Nine Smoothies. The name takes a moment to register; she rolls the smoothie between her palms and remembers. Cloud Nine. She only had one that one time, the day Elliot talked her out of her funk, but maybe she mentioned how much she liked it or maybe he just remembers. It's melted. The thing that used to be a smoothie is pink and delicious. He must have come in the middle of the night. He's an idiot. He's got an investigation, _their_ investigation.

She'd prefer coffee, of course, even decaf, but it's easy to guess that the doctor doesn't want that. She's been wondering what Elliot could possibly have had to argue with Dr. Johnson about. Well.

She wishes he'd woken her up, talked awhile. Already she's bored beyond all reason, despite all the sleep she's getting. Enough sleep. She'd rather talk to someone without a white coat.

Oh well. Olivia sips her melted smoothie. He's been sweet and supportive and she can't expect him to read her mind, too.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Thanks for the great response to last chapter. Please R&R, anything you have to say and it's almost summer!_


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See previous.

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the wait. I won't bore you all with a description of my yesterday, but it involved no computer access or even time to myself. Enjoy!

* * *

_It's okay, shit happens._

– _Kairos 166_

* * *

On her third day of exile Casey comes to visit. Olivia is so glad to see someone from her regular life that she almost screams. "Case!"

Casey laughs at her abject relief. "You look like you're feeling better."

"If better can be defined as bored and lonely, yes." Olivia sits up straight, glorying in her ability to do so. "Come, sit, tell me everything that's going on."

Agreeably Casey sits and runs her through the particulars of the investigation. There aren't many. "They've been running in circles," she concludes. "They get a lead and start running a new circle two feet ahead."

"That's how these things always work."

"Ye-es," Casey allows, "but I think it's longer circles than usual. So." Clearly she's sick of this case. "I hear you're being set free tomorrow."

"Yeah. The real question is how soon I can get away with coming back to work."

"Take the time off," Casey advises, shaking her head in awe. "Elliot said to tell you he'll pick you up."

"He could've called to tell me that," Olivia says, a little sour. Her partner's lack of communication is starting to be weird. "Or is he too busy for that?"

"He _is_," Casey says seriously. "Liv, he's working round the clock. They all say he's not taking enough sleep breaks. Even Cragen's been home to change and shower, but not Elliot."

Olivia absorbs this. "He finds time to visit," she says, lifting an empty smoothie cup, the second, as proof. "In the middle of the night. Doesn't stay to chat."

"Making sure you're alright is more important than actually talking to you," Casey informs her. "And, apparently, more important than sleeping."

"Could just call. I _tell _him I'm fine and he saves time."

"Olivia. _I_ don't trust you to tell me you're okay."

"Thanks a lot," Olivia huffs.

"No, I don't think you understand. I talked to him while you were in surgery, the second time; he was a wreck. First he thought I was Cragen, said he wasn't going anywhere, then he got mad at me . . ." Casey frowns at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." She's hoping Elliot didn't tell Casey too much, if he was talking to her just then. With effort Olivia recalls the rest of what she said. "It wasn't your fault, Case."

"That's what everyone else tells me." Casey suddenly looks very fragile, perched on her chair, tracing the edges of her briefcase. "I don't know. Let me have the guilt, Liv. I'm allowed to wish that things turned out differently."

_An inch to the left differently and I might not be here,_ Olivia thinks, but she has the feeling Casey wouldn't appreciate the joke. "In that case," she says, "remember that no-one else blames you."

"Except Elliot."

She shakes her head, hard, for emphasis. "Nuh-uh. He's a man; he says things he doesn't mean. These things happen sometimes. Elliot knows that."

* * *

Eighty-five hours after Micelli disappeared down the alleyway, Fin is making yet another pot of coffee. He's sick of making new batches every three hours, but Lake and Munch, both overwrought, have unceremoniously banned each other from the pot and Elliot's too distracted to think about the caffeine he's mainlining. Olivia makes good coffee. It's stupid that he wants her back for this, to share the coffee-brewing responsibility. She'd laugh about it.

He remembers laughing. It involved being happy. He thinks probably he did it when he heard that Olivia would be all right, but that was more than two days ago and it's the middle of the night and he's too damn tired. Munch, on the other hand, is slap-happy. At this point they all want the case closed just to get away from each other.

Fin watches in the pot's reflection as Elliot enters the squad room, slings his jacket over the back of his chair, and comes up behind him. He's supposed to have been in the crib. They never comment on why Elliot needs a jacket to take a nap. Fin passes an empty mug over his shoulder, fixing his gaze on the thin stream of coffee. "She okay?"

Surprised, Elliot meets his eyes in their reflection. "Yeah," he says. "She's gettin' more sleep than we are."

"Someone should."

"So. Anything new on Marina?"

"Not while you were _asleep_, no." Fin pours himself some of the fresh coffee. "Prints, the beautiful prints were sent out all over the country." Elliot already knows this, but reiteration is about all they've got left. "The prints from the wallet went out with them, and descriptions. I _did_ field fifteen false tips while you were out."

"Sorry."

"Munch got twenty when I was crashing earlier. Speak of the devil." John is coming towards them, wearing a crazed grin that means either he's got good news, or he desperately needs caffeine.

"Christine – "

"Marina," Fin corrects. Margaret Tazela did identify their mystery woman as her daughter, but some have trouble with the new name.

"Yeah, her. Picked up in Arkansas for shoplifting, half an hour ago, Novak wants to talk to you." Munch has his phone in hand, on speaker.

"Elliot?" Casey says.

"Yeah."

"Marina's attorney is fighting extradition, big surprise, so I need you to meet me at eight-fifteen; I'm getting this order the first time around."

"What do you need me for?"

"Two reasons," Casey says. "First, two people are harder to say no to than one; second, you're an excellent exhibit A. Just wear the face you've had on. Buy me sympathy. Eight-fifteen, I'll pick you up."

Elliot looks from Fin to Munch. "I'm a _what?_"

"Excellent exhibit A," Munch volunteers. "I think she's right about the face, it's a little – "

"Screw off."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please please please R&R._


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See previous.

To make up for the delay, I'm updating fast. School's out so I might be able to update faster, or slower depending on how often I can get to a place with Internet.

* * *

_Nothing is easier than self-deceit, for what each man wishes that he also believes to be true._

_- Demosthenes_

* * *

"Your knight in shining armor has arrived," John says grandly. Olivia slaps him. "Ow." He rubs his arm, assuming a wounded expression. "Is that any way to treat your rescuer?"

"If it's you, yes." Impatient, she taps the arms of her wheelchair, which she hates but understands and isn't going to make a fuss about. John, on the other hand. "C'mon, I'm all signed out, let's go."

"As my lady commands." John pushes her down the hall. "You know, I'm surprised – "

"Wait a sec." Olivia leans so far out that she nearly falls out of the wheelchair. "Hey! Leticia!"

* * *

"This," Elliot mutters to her, "sucks. Completely."

"What?" Casey murmurs back. "That we're about to talk to a federal judge, or that I'm keeping you away from coffee?"

"Both."

"I could tell by the short sentences. Relax. I'm doing the talking. You are – "

"Exhibit A?" A smile lurks around his mouth. Casey kicks him sideways.

"Exactly. Seriously, Elliot, I'm extraditing a nineteen-year-old on dubious charges. I need all the sympathy I can get."

"And I'm that?"

He's shaved very sloppily since the last time she saw him. His clothes are wrinkled and coffeestained and there are bags under his eyes and, God, in those eyes is an inexplicable ache that Olivia's good health has done nothing, apparently, to alleviate. "Christ, Elliot," Casey says, shaking her head. "When was the last time you looked in a mirror?"

Before he can answer they are finally ushered into the office, where Judge Bartkowicz's aide is whispering frantically in his ear. Casey waits until the young man stops for breath. "Casey Novak, Your Honor, and this is Detective Elliot Stabler with Manhattan SVU."

"Yes, yes," the judge rumbles, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Novak, and you, Detective. I am sorry for your loss."

_What?_

Elliot blinks at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your loss. Your partner."

Casey sucks in a breath and begins calculating the best way to use the judge's idiocy to her advantage. Elliot, who must be on familiar ground with knuckleheads, recovers quickly. "Save your condolences for someone who needs them. My partner is checking out of the hospital as we speak."

Now Judge Bartkowicz realizes his mistake and backpedals, right into a hole. "I'm sorry; I understood he was knifed."

Maybe he's hungover. Casey can't come up with a good excuse for his not having read the case file. The aide, who most likely _has_ read the file, is wincing. She's glad she brought Elliot; it never hurts to have dirt on a powerful judge.

"She was," Elliot says, laying a delicate emphasis on the pronoun. "But we breed them strong in SVU, _sir_, and my partner's a fighter. It was rough for a while, but she pulled through. May we?" He indicates the chairs on their side of the expansive desk.

"Of course," the judge says faintly. "Have a seat."

Casey turns sideways to sit, letting her hair fall across her face, to mouth at Elliot, _my hero._

* * *

"We don't have to say goodbye to every nurse in the place, do we?"

"Of course not," Olivia assures him. "Just Leticia. Maybe if we run into Janet – "

"Oh, no." John picks up the pace. "What were you thanking her for, exactly?"

"She helped me with some paperwork. You were saying you're surprised."

"I was?" John takes a minute to find his footing. This tends to happen to men around Olivia. "Right. I thought you would have asked why I'm picking you up."

"Actually," she says, smirking up at him, "I was wondering why I couldn't just take a cab."

"Because nobody, not even Casey, is going anywhere alone until we catch Micelli – "

"I was kidding."

It strikes John that Olivia is dealing with her hospitalization much better than Elliot is. Although that could be the sleep.

"I'm guessing that something came up with Elliot," she says, in a tone of finality. "It's not like it matters." She leans forward to punch the button for the elevator. John glances down at the top of her head. Even sitting in this chair, to him, she exudes strength.

"Casey drafted him to be exhibit A. Trying to get an extradition order on Marina Tazela."

"When was she picked up?"

"Middle of the night, in Arkansas. Shoplifting at a 24-hour Wal-Mart." John wheels her into the open elevator and finds the first floor button. Olivia is watching him, puzzled.

"Exhibit A?" she repeats.

"I believe the words she used were, 'wear the face you've had on. Buy me sympathy.'"

"His face is that bad, huh?"

He pictures the Elliot who's been haunting the one-six for the past few days. "It's a zombie mask of doom. No, seriously, he looks like – like a kid whose hero died. I can't explain it, but he looks like hell."

"Huh," Olivia says, and falls silent. Shit, he didn't mean to worry her, but he's just not used to knowing better than she does what's up with Elliot.

As soon as is allowed she leaves the chair behind and walks beside him to the sedan. She moves more slowly than usual, stiff, and she's quiet all the way as he drives her home. "I didn't make it worse, did I?" he asks finally, pulling up in front of her apartment building.

"Make what worse?"

"Whatever the hell is going on between you two."

"Good to know you'll never change. Still a conspiracy theorist." When he just looks at her she says patiently, "That's secret Benson-and-Stabler code for _Nothing is going on._"

_Yeah, right, _he thinks, but he does have to get back so he lets it go.

* * *

"We got it."

Cragen finds the nearest detective. "Fin! Call Arkansas and tell them we have an extradition order and to get Marina to us yesterday." He then returns to his phone. "Did Casey actually use you?"

"Apparently," Elliot says, "my mere presence was enough to make the judge step in a pile. Hungover, I think. And then he barely put up a fight."

Don raises an eyebrow. "Tell me this story later."

* * *

John and Elliot return and converge on the coffee pot within moments of each other. John leans against the table with his mug, eyeing Elliot. "What's with you and Liv?"

"I just had to convince a judge that she is, in fact, alive and a she. That's about it. Did she say something was up?"

"She called me a conspiracy theorist – an appellation, might I add, that is completely unwarranted."

Elliot grins, the first smile seen around in days. It's okay, now; finally they are getting somewhere. And it's nice to know that Olivia is being herself. "So everything went smoothly."

"Yeah, after she had to say goodbye to one of the nurses. Fat woman."

"Mmm." Elliot swallows a gulp of coffee. "Leticia."

John shakes his head and backs away. "I'm not even gonna ask."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. The more reviews, the more inclined I am to write and post fastfast. 3peri_


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Some things have to be believed to be seen._

– _Ralph Hodgson_

* * *

Olivia answers her door with a forced smile. "Is this a social visit, or did he talk you into making a house call?"

_He_, George knows, is Elliot – he knows this because she's guessed right. "You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I was expecting this before. Come on in." She stands by to let him inside. "If you want, we could skip the psych evaluation and you could just join the party," she says, leading him into the living room, which already contains a teenage girl bouncing a baby. "George, this is Elliot's daughter Elizabeth – "

"_Lizzie_," corrects the girl, regarding him with interest.

"And this is George, Dr. Huang to you. He works with me and your dad."

George crouches to wave to the baby. "And this must be Eli."

"Say hi," Lizzie says, waving the little hand. "So you've heard of him, but not me?" Her eyes sparkle. George plays along.

"He had an exciting birth," he says gravely. "Everybody heard about it."

Olivia glances at him, reading his face, and sighs. "Liz, why don't you take Eli in the kitchen and get a snack. There's cereal in the cabinets; you can have whatever you can scrounge up. We won't be long."

Lizzie eyes him curiously but obeys. Olivia motions for him to sit. "I don't have to lie on the couch, do I?"

"Olivia."

"Okay, I'll be serious." She settles herself on the arm of the sofa, facing his chair, for all the world as though perched on her desk. "Say I cooperate; if I come in to work tomorrow will you back me up?"

"That depends on my evaluation."

She frowns. "Is this official? I thought Elliot – "

"This is unofficial. But I'm not backing you up if I don't think you're ready."

"I'm ready," she says, chin high, "and I'll prove it to you."

George knows Olivia well enough to know how much she must hate this. "How did you know that Elliot talked to me?" he starts.

She shrugs. "Figure I freaked him out pretty good. I'd ask you for a favor, in his shoes." Glancing up at him sharply, she says, "You did talk to him – you know – about . . . "

"I'm going to have a chat with Elliot, yes. Fin and Munch are taking bets on how long it'll be before the Captain orders it."

"They would. So how much did he tell you?"

"He told me what he thought was important for _your_ well-being."

"You mean, he told you what he thought made me a nutcase." They're both dancing around the topic at hand, both knowing why he's here, spiraling closer, getting acclimated. George shakes his head.

"Elliot doesn't think you're a nutcase. He's worried about you. Want to give me your side of the story?"

"Well," she says, drumming her heels against the couch. "I'm sure he told you the truth."

"Have you ever panicked like that before?"

Her expression tightens as he hits the point. "Never like that."

"Have you ever had surgery before?"

"No. I don't have to be a shrink to guess what that means, either."

"You've spent a lot of time in hospitals."

"Not as a patient. I'm not hospital-phobic, George; it's just that OR. C'mon," she says earnestly, "don't you find the concept just a little disturbing? You're knocked out and cut up like on the ME's table. Only alive."

She's thought about this; she can talk about it. He should have known she'd come up swinging. "Olivia," he says. "Tell me what happened."

She shrugs several times, shifting her weight, uneasy. "The nurse came to the door. She didn't even have to say why she was there. I knew. And I freaked out, I couldn't – breathe right, Elliot had to talk me down. I made him – " She swallows hard, glances away. "I made him promise to stay with me. Usually I'm not like that. That's why I knew he'd go to you."

George sits back. "Out of curiosity. When did you last talk to Elliot?"

"Couple days ago. Maybe when he left the hospital. Why?"

He shrugs; she lets it go. "Does the captain know about this?" she asks.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Does he need to?"

George studies her for a moment as she stares steadily back at him. "No. You know when I did talk to Elliot? After Eli was born."

"Maybe you should have explained that to Lizzie," she says, carefully. She doesn't know where he's going with this.

Himself, he isn't sure what's directing his words. "You want to know what he said?'

"What about doctor-patient privilege?"

He takes this as a yes. Elliot, technically, is not his patient. "He told me he was the luckiest man in the world. When I asked why, he said, 'Hell, George, because three people I love were just in a car crash and they all came out all right.'"

Olivia ducks her head. After a moment she lifts her face to him, fire in her eyes. "Sweet of you, George, but I'd rather not be grouped with Kathy and the baby. If you want you can stay to play with him; that's what Lizzie and I have been doing."

Recognizing his cue, he stands. "I should get back before someone asks questions."

He is keeping her secret, and she understands. A smile breaks across her face. "Thanks."

"And Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll back you up."

* * *

In person, Marina Tazela is smaller than they expected, possibly because what she's managed to do to them is so huge. Faced with the actual person, however, even Elliot is forced to admit that she is shy and scared and acts a hell of a lot more like a victim than a perp.

Unfortunately, this isn't helping them get the confession or the information they need. Since her arrival, Marina has sat trembling in her chair, refusing to say a word except to fire her attorney, a man who somehow manages to terrify her than Elliot armed with his partner's medical records.

"You scared _me_," Lake says, admiring, as Elliot exits interrogation.

"Doesn't matter if it doesn't work. Take these." Elliot thrusts the reports into his grip. "I'm sick of looking at 'em." Possibly he means that he's tired of this case, or that reading those records, with all the details that he was too preoccupied to catch at the time, makes him nauseous. He hasn't decided yet.

They've tried everything on this girl. When they point this out to the captain, he nods. "I know. Lake, get your partner's ass out of the crib. You two are going to try everything plus one."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. I love you all especially when you review._


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: See previous.

So I've considered waiting to update until I hit four reviews, but it would be a crime to waste the superfast writing I just did, so here you go. (And if anyone would like to go back and review last chapter, would be much appreciated ...) I'm actually going to be gone next week and unable to update, so I'll try to post extra this week.

* * *

_Many argue; not many converse. _

– _Louisa May Alcott_

* * *

When Olivia steps into the squad room, she is greeted by a one-man standing ovation. "Nice to see you too," she tells Lake. "Sit down."

He doesn't. "Not that I don't want you back, Liv, but – "

"I'll be on desk duty for a month anyway. Might as well start now. Where is everyone?"

Lake points at her own desk and says, "Fin and Munch are double-teaming Marina. Again."

Following his arm, she steps forward to find her partner slumped over his desk, snoring behind a stack of files. "Okay. So. Why is Elliot asleep at his desk? What happened to the crib?"

"You want his answer or the real one?"

"Both."

"He says it saves time – "

"Bullshit."

"But the truth is he doesn't sleep until he passes out over the case reports and tips."

"Geez," she mutters. "When Casey told me he was working round the clock, I didn't think she meant it quite so literally." She snags Elliot's coffee mug, refills it, and sets it back on the desk without waking him. Why can't men take care of themselves?

"If this ever happens again," she tells Lake, "manhandle him to the crib. Call Kathy and have her yell at him. Whatever."

"We don't have that kind of power," he says cryptically, and changes the subject. "Go see Captain. He's watching the interrogation."

* * *

Olivia is awake and alert and not supposed to be here. It takes Don a moment to formulate a response to her sudden appearance at his side; finally he settles on "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here," she says, smirking. "Huang thinks I'm ready."

Don looks her up and down and sighs. The truth is, they need her back. "You're riding a desk until your partner convinces me that you're fit for active duty."

She winces. "Why him? How about until the doctor convinces you?"

"Elliot will err on the side of caution."

"Exactly. Or he'll give the okay too early, something will happen, and he'll fall into another guilt trap. Why hasn't somebody been making him sleep?" She shakes her head. "Let's argue later. Fill me in."

By the time he's brought her up to speed, Fin and Munch are again growing frustrated with Marina. Don calls them out while Olivia stares pensively at the girl through the mirror.

"Liv!" Fin crows, throwing an arm about her shoulders. "How's your coffee-making skills?"

"What?"

"He wants you to share the onerous burden of the coffee," John explains. "Lake and I aren't allowed near the pot anymore."

"We should have done that a long time ago," Olivia says, half serious. She's still watching Marina. "How many times have you guys done this already?"

John shrugs. "Me personally, four."

"Six or seven," Fin says. "You shoulda seen Elliot at it. He was terrifyin'."

"Like a god of wrath," John agrees. "Only more so than usual."

"If you're quite finished?" Don inquires.

Olivia has stopped paying attention; on the other side of the glass their subject is backing into a corner and sinking to the floor. "Poor girl," she murmurs.

Three faces turn to gape at her. "Liv," John says bracingly. "This woman put you in the fucking hospital – "

"No, she took some pictures."

"Which enabled her serialist father to nearly kill you," Fin points out.

"But we don't know that she knew what was going to happen." She looks to Don, decided. "I want to talk to her."

* * *

The first thing he notices is the crick in his neck. He's really got to stop falling asleep like this. Already he's almost forgotten what a bed feels like. But if he hit a bed now he'd be out for hours, and he can't have that. It's a mess.

Funny. He could have sworn that he finished his coffee. He kept putting off getting up for more. And then he fell asleep. He's sure that's how it happened. His mug is full. He stares at it fuzzily for a moment, then shakes his head; the motion lands his gaze on the bank of lockers. Olivia's is cracked open.

It just gets weirder and weirder.

Elliot levers himself to his feet, nods absently to Lake, and opens the locker. Her jacket's stuffed in there. Yawning widely, he tries to figure out what this means.

"She went to watch the interrogation," Lake supplies, behind him, a disembodied voice. "Mad at us for not forcing you into the crib."

He rubs the back of his neck. For so many days his reality has not included his partner, not here. He can't shake off the feeling that he's dreaming. "She look okay to you?"

The shrug is in Lake's voice. "I wouldn't want her out on the street yet, but she looks great considering. You gonna go welcome her back, or what?"

"Yeah," he says vaguely, "yeah," because that's the thing to do, isn't it; but when he gets there Olivia isn't in the viewing room; and the panic on his colleagues' faces betrays her location. There. Crouched on the floor of interrogation next to Marina Tazela.

Munch tries to head him off: "She insisted – "

"Are you all out of your _minds_?" He lunges forward, ready to pummel John for this, but Fin hits him first and pins him to the wall. "She's not ready for this!" Elliot yells, struggling fruitlessly. "Her first day back and you leave her alone with – "

"With a very scared young woman," Cragen says firmly. "Olivia insisted that she go in alone, and she's right. We need a breakthrough here, and she might be able to give it to us."

"She don't need you to protect her," Fin adds in a low voice. "Look at her, Stabler."

Elliot looks. While they've been arguing, his partner has coaxed Marina out of the corner and into a chair. Their suspect, or victim – who has not responded to his fury or Fin's logical threats or John's forced compassion – is talking.

"Let's hear this," Cragen says, and flips the switch.

* * *

Marina rubs her eyes and blinks at Olivia, who is lowering herself into a seat with a grunt. She's not worried about pulling stitches anymore, but it still hurts. "You look familiar," the girl says.

"I should." Now would be the time to slide across one of the photos this girl took, but Olivia doesn't have one and besides, that's been tried already. "We met about a week ago; you told me you were an administrative assistant."

A blush creeps up Marina's pale cheeks. "I lied."

"I know. You put me in the hospital for five days." She makes sure to say this as gently as possible; Marina merely shrinks a little.

"You're the one the other detective was talking about, the mad one."

Elliot, of course. "Don't worry about him," she says, confiding. "Anger management issues. Tell me about your mother."

Tears pool in the girl's eyes. "She was raped. For a while I stopped believing her, but now – "

"Hey." Olivia reaches for her hand. "My mom was, too."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Pleasepleaseplease R&R, tell me what you thought, anything._


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Live the questions now, and maybe one day, you will be able to live into the answers. _

– _Rainer Maria Rilke_

* * *

Like Olivia, Marina Tazela is the product of a rape. Unlike Olivia, she's known it all her life. Unlike Olivia, she began to doubt her abusive mother's story when her father came to take her away.

As he hears the tale unfold, Elliot realizes why his partner thought she had to do this. Olivia sees in Marina a younger, less lucky version of herself.

He wouldn't consider Olivia lucky, per se, but he can hear her saying it.

"They said he hurt you," Marina is saying, tears spilling over her cheeks. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean – they said my pictures helped him but I swear I didn't know – "

"It's okay," Olivia soothes, "it's not your fault." He wonders if she's bluffing or if she believes it. They're all good at bluffs, but Olivia is a master. "You can help me now," she tells Marina. "You can make this right."

"How?"

"Just tell me what happened next."

* * *

After attacking Olivia, Chris Micelli ran, lost himself in the crowds, and returned to the apartment where his daughter was waiting. She had a car, and ID that was not yet blacklisted. They fled the city and got on a train in New Jersey. Marina swears she did not know what he had done, but the little things she couldn't ignore began to pile up. She confronted him, in Arkansas, about the use of the pictures she'd taken. He attacked her, stole her wallet. _You really did rape all those girls, didn't you? _she spat, through her tears. _You really did rape my mother!_ And he smiled, and she ran.

Marina dissolves, telling the story, but she manages to give them the pertinent information with the drama: Micelli is on foot. She last saw him a day's walk from where she was arrested. More importantly, he has little cash, her ID, and her mother's credit card. "Drunk bitch probably doesn't know it's gone," she says bitterly, and Casey, on the other side of the glass, shakes her head. She'd rather not see fraud added to the list of charges this girl has to face.

* * *

"Good job," Cragen says, simply. Fin and Munch have scattered to pull Margaret Tazela's financial records. Casey grins at Olivia.

"Welcome back."

"If I hear those words again I'll scream," Olivia jokes, but she's watching her partner. Elliot stands behind the captain, fixing on her the bemused look he normally reserves for a particularly unappetizing cup of coffee at four in the morning.

Awake, he looks even more exhausted.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says abruptly. "She could've gotten violent."

Cragen and Casey are holding their breaths, clearly waiting for a scene to erupt. Olivia swallows the several retorts that immediately come to mind, among them such tired responses as _I'm a big girl_ and _It worked, didn't it?_ He's been on this case for days, she reminds herself. The last time they saw each other, she was lying in a hospital bed. He's allowed to be a little confused right now.

"_You_ should be sleeping in the crib, not your desk," she informs him. "Now. C'mon."

"What are you – "

"We can trace a credit card without you. Let's go." She takes his arm and tugs him along.

He follows, probably because he doesn't want to stress her but whatever works. "Liv, what are you doing?"

"Making sure you get there, damn you." The fact that he's carefully matching her slowed pace is just aggravating. She leads the way up the stairs and into the crib and points to the nearest bed. "I'll wake you up when we need you."

"I don't – "

"When was the last time you slept for more than an hour? Look at me when you answer, Elliot."

Mutely he meets her gaze: enough of an answer.

"That's what I thought," she sighs, and when he still doesn't move she resorts to, "_Please, _El."

He sits, as though this was never a battle at all, and shucks off his shoes. "You did a good job in there."

"It was easy."

"Nobody else could do it."

"Nobody else has my background. Also you terrify her. Lie down. That's necessary for sleeping."

"No kidding," he chuckles, obeying. "Guess I forgot about that."

Olivia sinks onto the bunk across from him. "Now close your eyes."

He rolls them instead. "Okay, but only if you actually wake me up."

"I promise." The words suck all the air from the crib, leaving something impossibly heavy between the two of them, walls closer, throats tight and aching, positions reversed.

"Liv," he says, snapping the tension, halfway asleep, "I don't get it."

There are any number of things he could mean, but she doesn't get most of them either so she picks a question with an answer. "Marina Tazela," she says quietly, "just wanted something to believe in," and she holds her breath until she hears snoring.

_That's one thing she and I don't share._

Even if her 'thing to believe in' is acting strangely. And also is an idiot.

She stands and nudges his shoes under the bed so they won't end up halfway across the room when some other hapless and weary officer stumbles in for a nap. She's thought, while he's been so uncommunicative, that they'd quietly gone back to normal. Now it's looking like maybe not.

Well. They'll just have to figure it out.

She takes the stairs gingerly to find most of the unit giving her awed looks. "That's the second miracle you've worked today," John says.

"Just don't take no for an answer," she tells him. "What have we got?"

"Still working on it. How long are you on desk duty for?"

Olivia sits in her own desk chair with considerable relief. She's actually missed the thing. "Until, apparently, both Elliot and my doctor decide otherwise."

"What's Elliot got to do with it?" Casey asks, approaching.

"Ask Cragen; makes no sense to me."

"Is he really sleeping?"

"Took him about ten seconds to crash." Is that so hard to believe? she wants to ask, but Casey did warn her about this. "Do the rest of them need sleep this badly?"

"I'm still here, you know," John says, indignant.

"Yeah, well, after the way you let my partner run himself into the ground I don't trust you to look after yourselves." She's done saying it before realizing that she halfway means it.

"I got it!" Fin calls, breaking the sudden silence. "Micelli just paid for a hotel room in Wheaton, Illinois."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. Enough encouragement and I'll update again on Saturday before I leave at the crack of dawn and become unavailable for a week. Love you all for the response to last chapter!_


	17. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens. _

– _Ann Brashares_

* * *

"Where've you been?"

"Pokin' Elliot to make sure he's alive." Fin takes up his post next to Munch, watching Cragen brief the Wheaton police. "Relax, Liv, I was gone for about five seconds. Thought he might want in on the action, but the man's a rock."

_If only you knew,_ Olivia thinks, and shakes her head. "What did you expect?"

He shrugs. "They gonna work with us?"

"Looks good. Hey, it's not like Elliot or I are going to be allowed anywhere near Micelli."

Fin glances at her sidelong. "You interrogated Harris."

"Harris didn't send me to the hospital. You just wait."

"Elliot would probably send Micelli to the hospital," Fin allows.

Olivia rolls her eyes and sits back to signal that this conversation is over. Fin, thank God, gets the message.

When the captain gets off the phone, it is with several years sloughed off his shoulders. "Hotel confirms a man of Micelli's description checking in. They're on their way. Lake – "

"I faxed them the picture ten minutes ago."

"Good. Who wants to meet them halfway?"

His four detectives look at each other, puzzled. Is this really a question?

"By which I mean, which of you three wants to stay home and sleep?"

Lake and Munch both shrug. "I sleep in cars," Lake says.

"Guess that means I'm drivin'," Fin grumbles.

"For the first hundred miles, anyway."

"Let's go." Clearly they're both eager to be off, to get this nightmare over with. Cragen waves them on.

"I'll call you when they actually pick him up. Be very careful with this one."

They don't want to be very careful, or take any care at all, with Chris Micelli; she can tell by the way they look at her. But Fin keeps his head and Lake'll do what he says – Olivia's not worried about them. The two men are out the door before she can tell them off for looking at her like a victim.

"And for us?" Munch asks.

"Unfortunately I need you to stay. Wheaton'll call back and with our luck we'll catch another case."

"And in the meantime?"

Cragen frowns at him. "Well, if you're not going to jump on the opportunity to crash, there's always – "

"Paperwork," Olivia mutters.

* * *

Casey thinks the squad room might be empty until she enters it and finds Olivia alone. "Where is everybody?"

"Asleep, asleep, driving to Illinois, and asleep. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what Cragen's doing in there." Olivia grins. "Convalescence has made me well-rested. You need something?"

"Nah, just checking in."

"Well," Olivia says, "everything went smoothly in Wheaton, no evidence that he was after _Margaret_ Tazela, so he's all ours. Have you decided about Marina?"

Casey nods gloomily. "I have to charge her with the accomplice in attempted murder, but I'll try to go easy on her. She needs counseling, not jail time. About Micelli, though – "

A phone rings and Olivia stops her to answer it. Casey slides into Elliot's desk and lays her head on her arms. In the past week she's gotten even less sleep than usual. Probably it won't get better until her part of this case is also finished. She'll have to put Olivia on the stand. Elliot she can do without; she doesn't want his temper up there. Munch, she needs Munch, and maybe Fin too. This unit is going to be severely depleted when trial rolls around. She groans inwardly and listens to Olivia's uneven footsteps. The other woman is knocking on Cragen's door.

"Cap. Captain! We caught something; who do you want on it?"

"Wake up Elliot and John," comes the muffled reply. Olivia isn't happy about his, her sigh proves it, but she shuts the door anyway. Casey lifts her head.

"Want me to get them?" she offers.

Olivia eyes her suspiciously. "Why?"

Safety or honesty? She's too tired to fabricate an excuse for someone she trusts. "Because you don't look like stairs are your friend right now."

After glaring for a moment more, Olivia relaxes. "They're not. Thanks."

Munch and Elliot both wake quickly, still on edge, and clatter down the stairs rather like a herd of bison. Men. Casey follows in time to hear Elliot demand, "What are you still doing here?"

"Working," Olivia says coolly, handing John a slip of paper. "Go."

Elliot doesn't move. "Maybe," he suggests quietly, as though he's not quite sure of himself, "maybe you should – "

"Go home?" Olivia's eyes flash; Casey instinctively backs away, dragging John with her. They can't go far enough to escape Elliot's muted reply:

"Well, you're still, you know, recovering – "

"And I'm also still capable of making my own decisions. There needs to be someone awake in this office." She presses her lips together, eying her frozen partner. "John's waiting, Elliot. Go. Drink some coffee if you need it to be reasonable."

Elliot shakes his head and storms past Casey and John without stopping at the coffee pot. She supposes argument is enough of a wake-up call. "This is gonna be fun," John mutters before following him.

The women look at each other. "What am I going to do with him?" Olivia asks wearily.

Again Casey weighs her options and comes up with the truth. "Don't be so hard on him. He's not over the wreck he was when – "

"I get the idea." Olivia sinks into her chair and sighs. "He's never like this. Never."

"I dunno, Liv." She really doesn't. Years have not given her any insight into men's minds, although they have made her question whether she wants the insight.

"Give him time?"

"Yeah."

"You were saying about Micelli. We did find evidence on the homicides, right? I'm not imagining that Elliot told me that?"

"We did." Casey grins: this she knows. "Don't worry, Liv. About Micelli, no mercy."

* * *

_Go!_ He pauses over the passenger belt buckle as the imperative fades through his consciousness. _Go._ But he promised. He hears again the words that still intermittently haunt him: _El, don't leave me, please._ He'd gone, and he'd _gone_, and he promised. It doesn't add up, he thinks peevishly, even though her sending him off to do his job makes perfect sense.

_Please. Promise?_

It makes perfect sense rationally, but he knows better than most that reason doesn't exactly rule the world.

"That seatbelt giving you trouble?" John asks lightly, jerking his attention back to the car.

"No," Elliot says. "No trouble at all."

* * *

_TBC..._

_So I'm gone at 6 am tomorrow and I won't be back until next Saturday, when I may or may not be able to get Internet access. However I'm not letting you all off the hook; pleasepleaseplease R&R and I'll update as soon as humanly possible._


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Don't tell me what I'm doing; I don't want to know. _

– _Federico Fellini_

* * *

It seems halfway disloyal to leave while Fin and Lake are still en route, but the captain is adamant and Munch is staying on duty so Elliot insists on driving his partner home.

"Kathy'll be glad to see you," she remarks, in the car, trying to defuse the tension.

He'll be glad to see her too, but something else is niggling at his conscience. "Didn't John tell you not to go anywhere alone?"

Even facing the road, he can tell she's rolling her eyes. "If you must know, they neighbor and his son walked me to the subway station."

"Uh-huh." Does she really think that's enough?

"He's six-two, lived downstairs for ten years, suffers from frustrated chivalry, and will you stop being an ass?"

_Never_. "And on the subway?"

"Apparently you haven't ridden it lately, but that sardine can does not qualify as alone. I put my back to the wall, okay?" She drums her fingers on the window, frustrated. "Maybe _you_ need the time off," she mutters.

After this they find it easy to ignore each other all the way to her apartment, where she slams the door with a "See you tomorrow." As though this were any of their ordinary quarrels, the ones that blow over within an hour away from each other, the ones they can tell are minor even as they're in the midst of it. Today, though. He hopes she's right.

As soon as he sets foot inside his front door he is mobbed. "Dad!" Lizzie yells, throwing herself into his arms, while Kathleen hurtles down the stairs to claim her own hug and Dickie sprints up only to hang back and say hi. Kathy greets him with great enthusiasm, to the disgust of their children; and Eli, who has recently developed the ability to tell good babble from bad babble, shrieks happily from the floor.

Everybody's talking over each other. It's mayhem and he loves it. "I missed you," he says, looking at Dickie, who groans predictably and leads the way into the kitchen to find food. The kid never stops eating. Kathleen scoops up Eli as they all follow. He can't remember the last time so much of his family was in one room at the same time.

"Did you get him?" Lizzie asks eagerly.

"Technically, the Wheaton, Illinois police got him, but yeah. He's done for." He has no doubt that Casey can win this case, rape and murder charges included. Chris Micelli is going away for life, and this makes him nearly as happy as being home again.

"So you didn't get to put him in handcuffs?" Dickie says, disappointed.

Elliot bites down on a smile. He can always count on his twins to occasionally act half their age. "No."

"But things are normal now," Kathleen says.

He's glad she doesn't yet understand that there is not normal, in his job, although he does hope that it won't be more abnormal than usual. _El, don't leave me, please._ "Well, I'll be home more often, does that count?"

"It's enough for me," Kathy says, a grin in her voice, unwrapping something from the fridge. Probably she's determined to feed him, now, and he has no objections.

"Can we have ice cream?" Dickie asks, practical, as Lizzie starts to regale him with stories of the boys she knows. Elliot holds out both arms for the baby and lets his family wash over him.

* * *

He turns up in the morning at exactly the time she always leaves for work. If they hadn't been together so long, she would feel stalked. Olivia puts her hands on her hips, refusing to let him inside. "My neighbor's waiting for me," she informs him. "His kid had a lot of fun playing with my badge and will be crushed if I disappoint him."

Elliot shrugs. "Go out for breakfast sometime and let him play with it. Right now you have another engagement, who has a car. You shouldn't be doing all that walking."

"It's good for the environment."

"Don't start. Are you ready to go, or should I come in?"

_Her_ don't start? If he keeps this up much longer she'll punch his lights out. "Stay here," she grinds out, and stalks away for her keys and coffee. Boundaries, she's thinking, they knocked down all their walls, which was fine, great actually because she needed him, but now they have to redraw the lines. She conveniently forgets how often Elliot pulls this kind of crap.

More even than not wanting to be taken care of, she doesn't want to be another person _he _has to look after. By rights it should go the other way around, since he's the one who can't look after himself. She grabs her coffee mug and considers getting him some, he looks exhausted still, but decides against it. If he can't drive properly she can throw it in his face: _I would've been safer on the subway. So there._

She's been working herself up and it must show on her face, because Elliot whistles softly and lets her pass him by. In the lobby she has to explain to Brandon, her neighbor's four-year-old, that she can't walk with them today; the kid takes one look at Elliot, who has not turned on his child charm, and bolts away to hide behind his father. Olivia waves apologetically and glares at her partner. "Knock it off. I hope you don't do that at home, or Eli'll grow up scared of you."

His eyes darken; she's hit him where it hurts and they both know it. "Let's go," he says roughly.

* * *

"He did it again," John announces, sweeping into the squad room in the middle of the afternoon. He stops when he spots Fin and Lake. "Hey, you're back."

"Yeah," Fin says, "and against our better judgment we brought Micelli with us."

"What did your judgment tell you to do?"

"Push 'im into Lake Erie, preferably cuffed and weighted. Cap's deciding who'll talk to him, but we don't even need a confession, do we?"

"Novak says it'd be the cherry on top. Just don't mess it up."

"Would I?" Fin asks. "Who did what again?"

John rewinds the conversation in his head and says simply, "Elliot." Behind him Olivia groans.

"Again? Really?"

Fin turns his attention to her. "Again what?"

"Perversely, scaring one small child has led him to terrify more," she says bitterly.

The look Fin gives him now is instantly readable: _oh boy, here we go._

__

TBC...

I'm baaaack! And I'm exhausted and have not been very prolific but I had a lot of fun and helped build a house. Please R&R, it'll help me get back into the groove.


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight. _

– _Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

Elliot insists on driving her to and from work for a week, until Olivia finally puts her foot down. She tells him that the neighbor's kid is still petrified of him, which is unfortunately true but also a convenient excuse and a nice alternative to asserting her ability to take care of herself. Although this is also true he doesn't seem to take it seriously. By now those car rides have gotten so silent and strained that Elliot capitulates with minimal argument.

He doesn't want her to testify. It's past midnight and she's flipping through channels, thinking about this. It's useless, of course, even more than her trying to keep him from being used against Saul Picard, because she's the one who saw Micelli's face when he stabbed her. Elliot's testimony can't prove that it wasn't some other man of similar build running away from him. He's smart enough not to push the issue with Casey, but she can feel the disapproval in his eyes. What does he think will happen? She's recovered; she's not exactly the type to break down on the stand. She's reasonably sure she won't be blindsided the way he was all those months ago. She's also fairly certain he used to trust her.

_I swear, Liv, I won't leave you._

Shit.

He left when she told him to, though. He trusted her that far. It doesn't add up.

While staying with her in the hospital he was nothing short of a saint. She knows what it must have cost him to hold her hand through all that, to know that she needed him to hang on to. But Elliot's always been able to handle her issues. God knows she comes with enough of them.

Besides, he's got his family back. She needs him, not the other way around. He's just being a jackass. Maybe he's used up his monthly quota of goodness.

She gives up on the television and calls him before remembering that he'll assume it's about a case. He picks up on the second ring. "What is it?" he says, sleepy.

"Not the Consuer case; relax." The case in question is currently giving the unit a near-constant headache, but that's not her concern right now. "Why don't you want me to testify against Micelli?"

He groans and says, muffled, "Go back to sleep." Kathy. She feels a pang of regret but quashes it, listening to him move around, probably getting out of his wife's hearing. Smart of him. She doesn't plan on making this conversation pleasant.

"Say that again?" he inquires, more alert.

"Why don't you want me to testify against Micelli?"

"I never said –"

"Bullshit. Casey told me you asked her for a way around it."

Elliot exhales heavily. "I just think maybe it's not the best thing for you right now."

"The _best thing_ is putting that man away for life. Think of all the people he's hurt: the women he raped, the ones he murdered, their families, his own daughter."

"I notice you're not counting yourself."

She sits up straight, despite the fact that he can't see her. "I am _not_ a victim, Elliot Stabler."

"Uh-huh." Usually he has more sympathy than a blunt axe, but you couldn't tell by his tone now. Olivia sits on her free hand to avoid breaking a lamp.

"What the hell do you think is going to happen? Casey asks questions. I tell story. The end. I've done it hundreds of times."

"Yeah, but – "

"And Micelli's not schizophrenic, so we won't run into _that _problem again – "

"Liv, shut up." He's mad that she's brought Picard into this. She can hear him fighting it back.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asks, more quietly.

He hesitates a moment before answering, as though afraid this will set her off. "I dunno," he says, just as quiet, just as calm. "But I'd rather not take the chance."

"No-one ever said this had anything to do with _you_," she informs him. "I'm allowed to take chances. It's part of the job."

Elliot sighs. "Maybe we should talk about this in the morning," he says, appeasing.

She's not a child to be placated. "Fine," Olivia says shortly, and hangs up.

The television's still going, muted. She stares at it for a few minutes before registering anything but blind fury, at Elliot, at Micelli, at Cragen for letting her partner think he has this power over her.

It's _Full House_, on the TV. _How rude._ She used to love this show. Figures that now it's only on in the middle of the night.

* * *

"I need coffee," John groans.

"_You_ need coffee?" Fin repeats. "You just got here. And you're sitting on my case."

"It's my case too."

"Well, you shouldn't be sittin' on my desk. Don' drink the coffee."

"Why? Did Lake make it?"

"Naw, Liv did, it's just fine. That's the problem."

"All right." John puts his feet up on his armrest; Fin shoves him off. "You've piqued the old curiosity, my friend. Why don't I want to wake up this fine morning?"

"Because then you'd have to listen to _that._" Fin jerks his head across the room.

Benson and Stabler are having a heated argument across their desks. The fact that they're having it in whispers only saves Fin from hearing the actual words – he can't escape the passion. Possibly Liv's telling her partner off for his current attitude, the one that has stripped him of the ability to be civil to anyone besides victims. Possibly. But it sounds more personal and Fin really doesn't want to hear it.

"Maybe," John says after listening for a moment, "I'll get my coffee and take it elsewhere."

"Or maybe you'll keep your ass right there so I don't have to pretend I'm not listenin'."

"Because we are listening."

"Not right now we're not."

"Only because we're having our own argument."

"Exactly. You're a slow learner, Munch. No." He grabs John's arm as the other man hops off his desk. "Don't leave me."

"Well, darling, I never knew you felt that way. You could come with me elsewhere."

Fin considers. "Good point."

"Clearly _you_ need the coffee."

Unfortunately their path towards the coffeepot brings the explosion to their ears. "Well," Elliot's growling, "I wouldn't have to if you could just take care of yourself!"

Fin freezes; beside him John does the same; his back is to his colleagues but he can feel the icy stare that's descended over the room.

"Fuck you," Olivia says, calm, precise, and storms past them muttering something like, _I should have known._

__

TBC...

:hides: I know you probably hate me right now. Please review and tell me how much. The faster I update, the faster this gets resolved . . . if in fact it ever does . . . :evil laugh:


	20. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere._

– _Anne Morrow Lindbergh_

* * *

"They're really not speaking?"

"Mmm."

"How can you tell?"

"Take three steps closer and you'll feel the vibe."

"No thanks."

From their corner Casey and Lake watch the squad room as though it is broadcasting a national disaster. Fin and Munch are talking to the captain; Elliot glances up to ask his partner a question; Olivia responds. Casey squawks. "There! They talk!"

"Yeah, about work. You're the one who said they weren't _talking,_" Lake informs her. "I said they're not on speaking _terms._"

"There's a difference?"

He nods sagely. "The difference is turning the house into a war zone."

"Huh." Casey watches them for a moment longer, noting the frequent glances sent their way by the other detectives. "How long has this been going on?"

"All day."

"Of course. What started it?"

Lake shrugs. "From what I hear, Elliot made some crack about Liv's ability to watch herself."

"He _didn't._"

"What else could lead to this?" he asks rhetorically. "Be glad you can get away from it."

"I don't believe it." Casey shakes her head, trying to process this. Elliot and Olivia have had their ups and downs, of course, they all have; but she remembers thinking of them after Liv returned from Oregon: _inseparable._ "I mean, he was driving her nuts, but I chalked it up to Micelli."

"Speaking of which."

"Don't change the subject."

"Please?" He adopts his best hangdog expression. "I am so sick of this. You will be too."

Casey surveys the scene before her. "I believe you," she says fervently. "Fine. I need either you or Fin for trial. Duke it out."

"Are they going to be there?"

"Just Olivia. I'm not putting Elliot's temper that close to Micelli. Liv and Munch and one of you."

"Either way I'm good."

So he just wants to be away from the tension. "Like I said, duke it out."

* * *

The first day he notices the daggers his detectives are looking at each other, he ignores it. The second day he wonders. The third day he calls John into his office. "What the hell is going on between those two?"

Instantly John knows whom he's referring to. "She's mad because he doesn't trust her, he thinks she's being unreasonable, and they're both too fucking stubborn."

"You sound familiar with the situation."

"Frankly, I'm surprised you had to ask. Olivia might as well be wearing a t-shirt that says _My partner's a jackass._"

_Do I want to know? _Don considers asking, but on second thought he doesn't even know if he wants to know.

"You know what's funny, though," John's saying, "they're working together just fine. I feel like I should be making a documentary. Sell to _National Geographic_ for a million bucks."

"You do that, John."

* * *

It's the little things that are going to kill him. Like the fact that she's over there refilling her coffee mug and not his. Like the time he reached for hers, without thinking, and she moved it away.

When he forgets why he's mad, he goes back to why _she's_ mad and he remembers. Olivia's a cop, for Christ's sake. She knows what goes on in New York City. She knows why he wants to be cautious, why he wants _her_ to be cautious. She's just willfully ignoring him. She's doing it now. Sitting there sipping the damn coffee like nothing's wrong, except that every word she has to say to him drips with resentment. As though she's thinking, _why do I have to take time out of my life to speak to this idiot?_

He'd rather she were actually calling him an idiot. That's the Olivia he knows, his partner of old. In the space of a day she became a stranger.

The rest of the unit is keeping their distance. Elliot imagines a force field around the two of them, like in his kids' cartoons, a bubble filled with all the colors of the rainbow. No-one dares to come too close, but they can't keep their eyes off it. They're worried, they're curious, they're waiting for something else to happen. He's not sure what possessed him to have a showdown right here in front of everyone. If they'd finished it on the phone in the middle of the night, they might not be getting these looks.

But no. They would be. Force field.

When he sighs loudly and rolls his chair back he attracts every eye in the room except hers. Every gaze except the one that used to be able to read him like a book.

* * *

As usual Elliot is out of bed before she's heard the baby cry. Kathy sits up, yawning, lucid enough after this extra sleep to take back her own thoughts. This is not as usual; it's been going on for nearly two weeks but that doesn't make it normal. Normal is fighting over whose turn it is to rock Eli; normal is being woken by a baby's high shriek, not the jostling of the mattress as her husband starts awake shaking.

Although the truth is, you never really know normal until you hit abnormal.

She slips out of bed and follows him into the baby's room. He's holding Eli close, humming softly, soothing the tears away. Ever the cop, he turns toward her footsteps; filtered light slants across his face, and she remembers all over again why she fell in love with him.

She blinks. "Elliot," she murmurs, stepping forward, mesmerized by the sparkle of tear tracks on his cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"He got tangled up in the blanket, that's all."

"I meant with you." He looks away, guarded, and she presses, "You've been having nightmares."

"Well," he mutters, "I've been _living_ nightmares. At night I just relive it."

"Relive what?" She can guess; it's hard to forget a week straight without seeing him; but she wants him to tell her all the same.

"Olivia," he says simply, laying a now-quiet Eli back in his crib.

Kathy joins him at the rail to peer down at their son. "Olivia getting hurt."

He nods shortly. "Olivia changing her emergency contact to an unreliable man she's met about five times. Olivia _breaking down._" He glances up at her, as though afraid he's said too much. "I don't want to lay all this on you, Kath, I don't want you to feel – "

"Threatened? I'm over that." She prays she really is: she doesn't want to be a bitch. "But she's fine now, right?"

Elliot shrugs. "I just wanted her to watch herself. Now she hates me. Hard to tell but I think all the guys are on her side."

_Maybe there's a reason for that_, she thinks, but right or not he deserves an ally so she tells him what she _knows_ to be true: "Olivia could never hate you."

"Small comfort if she never speaks to me again."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Pleasepleaseplease R&R. I know there are more of you reading than I'm getting in reviews. For those of you who are reviewing, thanks so much and please keep it up!_


	21. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Stranger than your sympathy  
__I take these things so I don't feel  
__I'm killing myself from the inside out  
__Now my head's been filled with doubt _

– _Goo Goo Dolls_

* * *

If there's one thing Olivia hates, it's repeating mistakes. That's what she recalls of her childhood; at this point whether she or her mother made the errors doesn't matter, only that they had a vicious cycle, the two of them. She messed up, or Serena did, and the other reacted wrong; and although at the time Olivia believed that she was the one who wound up getting hurt, she's come to realize that they both were.

These days she still makes the same damn mistake, but now she really is the only one suffering.

The best friend in high school who gradually stopped returning calls; the precious few men who ever got under her skin; her half-brother. Her partner, twice now. She was so happy to have regained their relationship, after the last time this happened, that she forgot the best lesson her mother ever taught her: when you let people get close, you give them the tools to hurt you.

She's been doing laundry, in the hope of boring herself to sleep, only to see a gray sweatshirt tumble from the hamper. Stupid thing, really, to bring on such a fit of introspection, but there it is. Lizzie noticed it lying around when she brought Eli over and made an interesting, teenage face. _Do you and Dad, like, match?_

Olivia followed her gaze and laughed. _No, that's actually his._

_You stole my dad's _sweatshirt?

_He left it behind at work. I was cold. I forgot to take it off._ She grinned conspiratorially at the girl. _I'm waiting until he realizes he's lost it._

Lizzie found this very amusing and promised not to tell. Now Olivia is left staring at the fucking sweatshirt.

She'll be big enough to wash the thing, she decides, but she's not giving it back to him. She'll bury it in her closet with old scrapbooks and her first uniform. He took her dignity and her trust and the least she deserves is a sweatshirt in shades of gray.

* * *

Technically they're on a stakeout, but Fin has never felt that this precludes personal phone calls. It's the middle of the night but he has the sinking suspicion that Olivia's not asleep; sure enough she picks up. "What?"

"Lake'n'I are on your side," he informs her.

"There aren't sides, Fin."

Overhearing, Lake mutters, "I told you so."

"Like hell there ain't sides, Liv. I'm pretty sure Munch's on yours too." He does realize that this leaves no-one on Stabler's side, particularly not the partner who usually stands by him even when she thinks he's screwed up royally, but in all honesty he doesn't give a damn.

"Fine. Then I don't _need_ you on my side."

"I never said you did. Just lettin' you know how things stand."

"At two in the morning, nearly two weeks after you and Munch witnessed the whole thing?"

"Kinda thought it woulda blown over by now, but apparently not."

"Definitely not," she agrees quietly.

Fin hates hearing that note of sadness in her voice. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But Fin?"

Lake pokes him and points to a shadow of movement in their suspect's backyard. "Yeah," he says, to both of them.

"Thanks for asking," Olivia says.

* * *

George watches the SVU detectives from the doorway without being noticed. Fin and Lake are talking, gesturing to pictures taped to the white board, while Cragen and Olivia nod and Elliot, feet up on his desk, listens pensively. George catches snatches of conversation about the case he's supposed to be consulting on, but something keeps him here studying them.

There. As Elliot swivels back toward his desk, his gaze catches on his partner and his face shuts down. Olivia is very carefully not looking at him. The others seems more tense than usual, wound up, waiting, sending frequent glances between Benson and Stabler. George spots Munch coming at the group from the other side; the detective hesitates and grimaces at him before plunging into the squad room proper.

Well, let it not be said that others are braver than he in a situation that is so clearly emotional. George enters the room and is immediately called upon to profile a rapist who is not, as it turns out, the man they've had their eye on for two days.

Cragen has sent Elliot and Munch out to follow up a new lead by the time George finds an opportunity to ask the captain softly, "What's going on in here?"

"Benson and Stabler," comes the predictable reply. "He's taking things hard, she's taking them personally, they're barely speaking, and the rest of us are going through a hell of a lot of coffee."

George shakes his head. A month ago Elliot came to him raw around the edges. _I'm worried about Liv, _he said; _she had a, I guess it was a panic attack or something, about going into surgery, and she seems okay now but if you could make sure for me. . . ._

And now the dream team can't look each other in the eye.

"I know it's not your area of expertise," Cragen is saying, "but –"

"If that's what's going on," George says, "I think they need to figure it out themselves."

* * *

She's recovered faster than he expected, but then again she is Olivia. After getting off the phone with her doctor Don hesitates only a moment before poking his head out his office door to call her in. Elliot doesn't look up, despite the fact that he and his partner are usually called in together for a reprimand.

"What's up?" she asks, closing the door behind her.

"Your doctor thinks you're fit to be back on the streets."

A smile snakes across her face. "Well, Cap, I'd have to agree with that."

"So would I." Don sits on the edge of his desk and leans toward her to emphasize his point. "But." She groans and he carries on, "Can you and Elliot work together, or do I have to split you up?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap, Detective."

In truth breaking up a long-term partnership like theirs ranks high on the list of things he never wants to do, but if duty calls. Their original blowout makes a perverse kind of sense, given Elliot's fierce attachment to her side while she brushed so close to death, but Don's frankly amazed that they've managed to keep it up this long.

Olivia tilts her head, thinking. "We're professionals, Captain. We can work around our crap. We've been doing it for nine years." There's a trace of bitterness in her tone, but looking at her he can't find it.

Well. She's always been a fine actress. "Next case we catch is yours," Don says, and he prays he is not making a mistake.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Thanks to those of you who have reviewed. But will someone please tell me why my review count has suddenly dropped to 3 a chapter? Please R&R. 3_


	22. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Tied together with a smile but you're coming undone…_

– _Taylor Swift_

* * *

"A partnership," John is saying, "is like a seesaw."

Fin snorts, watching his former partner attempt to balance a pen across one finger. "Right. I'm surprised you know what a seesaw _is._"

"I was a child once."

"And you didn't think playgrounds were tools of the Man? Besides, who's in the middle rockin' the thing?"

"No-one. Maybe it's more like this." John gestures to the pen, finally steady on the tip of his index finger.

"It does look an awful lot like a seesaw," Lake muses.

"Thank you."

Ignoring John's yelp of indignation, Fin pokes one end of the pen. It wobbles slightly, then rolls to the desk.

"You ruined it," John accuses.

"But you can put it back," Lake says helpfully. "It's balance, right? Like a seesaw. If there's too much weight on one end, it won't go."

"Exactly." John picks up the pen and balances it again, tugging it back and forth until he hits the center spot. "Both sides have to pull their weight, so to speak."

Fin shakes his head. "Somehow I don't think that's Liv and Elliot's problem."

"Just when I was starting to think we weren't talking about them," Lake groans.

The others ignore him: what else is there to talk about? "It's not quite their problem," John agrees, "but they're off balance all the same."

This Fin can't deny – there's a hole in the room left by the departure of the solidity that usually marks the partnership across the way. "They just need to get it back, though," he says, wishing it didn't come out like a question. He pokes the pen again.

"Sometimes you can catch it," John says gravely, steadying the damn pen with his other hand. "But sometimes – "

He takes his hand away and the three watch the pen clatter to the floor.

Fin finishes: "Sometimes it all falls apart."

* * *

He keeps slowing down, and it's driving her crazy. For three days out together Olivia has put up with her partner's awkward little dance: whenever she falls a step behind, trying to fall into a semblance of their old routine, he checks himself and keeps a ridiculously slow pace until he manages to get behind her. His bringing up the rear isn't unusual in and of itself, so the first few times she didn't even notice.

Every damn time, though. She's been obligingly playing his game, returning to their normal speed every time he falls to her back, but it's starting to get obnoxious. Right now she's so close behind him that she's literally breathing down his neck, and still he's shortening his strides. Olivia stops and stands stock-still on the pavement until, barely a yard ahead, he too halts and whirls with panic in his eyes.

"What the _hell _is your problem?" she demands.

He exhales sharply. "Don't do that to me."

"Do what? Stop walking? I'm not moving from this spot until you 'fess up."

Across his face spreads the _I've-got-you-pegged_ smile he uses on suspects and reluctant witnesses. "'Fess up to what?"

She clenches her fists at her sides. Assaulting her partner would be unprofessional. "The meaning of your little dance. You keep slowing down like that, we're never going to get anywhere."

"So walk in front of me," he says, as though this is the obvious solution.

"Fuck, Elliot, what does it matter where I walk? You never cared before."

For the barest moment his mask slips. "Please," he says quietly.

Hating herself and him, she steps around him and takes the lead. "Nothing would happen to me," she mutters, resentful.

"Yeah." A half snort, just sarcastic enough to be insulting. Because something did happen.

"Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "Nothing would happen that couldn't just as easily happen to _you._"

This time he doesn't answer; Olivia resists the urge to trip him only because that would be both unprofessional and juvenile.

* * *

It's the fourth day they've been in here together, and things haven't gotten any better. If Melinda didn't know better, she would swear that Elliot and Olivia carry with them an electric field, the kind that raises the hair on your neck. They're both negative charges, rotating tentatively around each other.

"Stop it, Elliot," Olivia is saying, glaring at him. "It isn't enough to scare small children, you have to scare Warner too?"

Melinda thinks this rather unfair. Elliot doesn't frighten her; the fact that this is the most civil thing that's passed between them does. Olivia misread the hope that must have been on her face when they entered, the disappointment she felt when she realized that nothing had changed.

Olivia and Elliot's partnership is to them a safe ground when the world's falling apart around them. What they've never realized is that it's a rock to others too. Melinda misses that rock. "Olivia," she says sharply, "lay off."

They both look at her in surprise. She may have been dragged in, but the argument's still theirs. "Sorry," Olivia says, sincere. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Look," Melinda says pointedly. "I don't know what the hell is going on between you two, but I'd appreciate if you didn't bring it into my lab." This is only half true; she doesn't mind their bringing their partnership in as long as it's not depressing. "I don't need to deal with it, and Jane Doe here certainly doesn't need to deal with it. Clear?"

They look like kids caught with a hand in the cookie jar. This would be amusing under any other circumstances. Melinda sighs and pulls back the sheet covering their victim's body. "Ligature strangulation."

* * *

Christopher Micelli's trial. Olivia's testifying and Fin and Munch sit outside the courtroom, waiting semi-patiently to be called. "Was Elliot coming?" John asks.

"Probably."

John thinks of the friendly faces they place in the gallery for young or traumatized witnesses. "That," he says, "is like an anti-focal point."

"Yeah." Fin kicks the bench absently and announces, "Morales is startin' a bettin' pool."

"On what?"

"Who'll cave first. Liv or Elliot. Who'll apologize."

"How entrepreneurial of him," John says bitterly. It's been everybody's business all along, of course, but in a tacit, undercurrent kind of way. _Please, _he wants to say, _betting pools are all well and good but this is real and painful and please don't make a sideshow of it, _but what he says is, "Did you bet?"

"Naw." Fin drops his voice so that John has to lean in to hear. "But I'd put my money on Liv."

"You'd what? You think _she _should apologize?" All that John can see Olivia being guilty of is not understanding why her partner turned into an overprotective father.

"Hey, we're all on her side here," Fin reassures him softly. "I don' think she should, I think she _will._"

"Why?" John mutters fiercely.

"Because," Fin says as the object of their discussion comes out the door from the trial. Olivia spots them whispering to each other and grins, barely holding back snickers. "Because. Liv's stronger."

* * *

_TBC..._

_Wow! Thanks for the response to last chapter, especially to the reader who caught Olivia's mother's name... I fixed that... I know things may seem a little slow but I promise it'll pick up soon. Please R&R again; I loved those reviews..._


	23. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us. _

– _Bill Watterson_

* * *

Despite what his coworkers might tell you right about now, Elliot Stabler is not a stupid man. He remembers with perfect clarity that his partnership once cracked along the fault lines of their interdependence. He recognizes the oxymoron that is two people who can speak silently, driven apart by an inability to communicate. Moreover, Elliot figures he knows what's going through his partner's head. He'd react the same, in her position. Probably he's being a bastard.

He just can't seem to make himself stop.

The same, apparently, applies to his children.

"_Dad,_" Lizzie is saying, for at least the tenth time. "I promise I will call if things get out of hand. Which they won't."

Dickie at least is intelligent enough not to be begging permission to go to this party. Once you hit a certain number of teenagers, Elliot believes, things will inevitably get out of hand. "No."

"Don't you _trust _me?" she cries, and his breath catches and before he knows it she's fled the room, leaving Elliot with an echo.

* * *

Olivia stares at the girl in her door but retains enough presence of mind to let Lizzie in before she asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Um," the girl says, embarrassed; and Olivia understands a moment before she says, "Running away, kind of."

"Kind of," Olivia repeats.

"Just from Dad."

Well. This could be interesting. "So your mom knows where you are?"

Lizzie shuffles her feet. "Not exactly."

"Okay." Olivia leads the way into the kitchen and picks up the phone. "Here's the deal, Liz. You can call her, or I can call her."

"No – "

"Yes. You're welcome to stay and cool off, but only as long as your parents aren't worried sick."

"That's kind of the point," Lizzie mutters.

"I thought you weren't mad at your mom." When the girl nods but makes no move for the phone, Olivia dials herself. "Kathy, it's Olivia."

"Elliot's right here; isn't his cell working?"

"No, I'm calling to tell you Lizzie's here."

"Oh, thank God." Kathy lets out a rush of breath over the line. "I've been calling all her friends' houses, trying to track her down. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, fine, and she's not mad at you." Olivia ignores whatever Lizzie is trying to telegraph her, figuring she might as well tell all. "I think she'd like Elliot to stew a little, though."

"Well, he was being overprotective. Do you want me to come get her?"

"Um." _Wanna stay?_ she mouths at Lizzie, who nods vigorously. "I think we're just gonna hang out for a while, if that's okay. I'll bring her home later."

"That's fine. Thanks, Olivia."

"I can get home myself," Lizzie says sullenly when she puts down the phone.

"I'm sure you can, honey, but your dad and I aren't on the best terms right now, and I'm not going to make that worse by letting you go home alone."

This is news to Lizzie, who sits down at Olivia's kitchen table to stare at her. "You and Dad . . ."

"Well, if we didn't have to speak to work together, I'd say we're not speaking."

Lizzie hides her face in her hands. "I shouldn't have come here, I'm so sorry – "

"Hey, Liz." Olivia sits next to her and tugs her arms down. "Why did you come here? Why not one of your friends' houses?"

"Because I wanted to upset Dad, but not too much, you know?" The girl looks into her lap, embarrassed by her own train of thought. "I wanted to go to someone he trusts."

In spite of herself Olivia laughs. "I'm not sure you picked the right person then, but you're welcome to stay awhile. You want to talk about it?"

A smile lurks around Lizzie's mouth. "If he doesn't trust you and he doesn't trust me, then I guess we just have to start a club."

"I guess so," Olivia agrees. "So what will we do at club meetings?"

* * *

"You scared your daughter away," Kathy informs him, and is devilishly pleased when he looks up in confusion.

"Lizzie?" he says, starting to panic. "What do you mean – "

"She ran away." Because she agrees with her daughter, just the tiniest bit – Elliot could at least have listened – she lets the fear play over his face for a moment before adding, "To your partner's place. Olivia's going to bring her home later."

"Christ, Kath, don't do that to me." Elliot presses a hand to his face. "To Liv's?"

"Yeah. I get the feeling those two have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Halfway through the movie Lizzie turns to her pensively. "How come Dad doesn't trust you anymore?"

Olivia hits pause, picking her words carefully. If there's one thing to count on about Elliot, it's that he doesn't bring his work home to his family. "Because I got hurt, and he's too stubborn to listen to what I have to say. I guess. What about you?"

"Ditto on the stubborn thing."

"Nuh-uh. You're the teenager who ran away from home. You have to spill more."

Lizzie sighs and pokes a finger through a hole in her jeans. "I don't even know. I mean, he taught me all about the city and – and everything . . . . There's this party. Everyone's going."

"Hearing that is bound to set off alarm bells in your dad's head."

"I don't drink," Lizzie says defensively. "I'm not dumb like Kathleen. I promised I'd call home if anything got started. I guess he doesn't believe me. He should. He _knows_ I'm responsible, he _knows_ – "

"Honey. He knows."

The girl rubs her eyes. "Is this the part where you get all reassuring?"

"Apparently," Olivia says, grinning. "Liz, you're your daddy's little girl. He knows you're smart, but he also knows that things happen even to people who do everything right." Lizzie's watching her intently so she goes on, "I'm sure he taught you well, but you are fifteen and he is your father. Maybe it's something else about this party. Maybe the timing is bad. Maybe he's just being a father."

She always loved that Elliot's a family man.

"He just doesn't want you to get hurt," Olivia finishes, somewhat lamely.

"Things happen to people who do everything right?" Lizzie quotes softly.

"Yeah. All the time."

"So couldn't some of this apply to you and Dad?"

* * *

She senses when Elliot comes in in the morning but, as has become their new custom, doesn't look up. His chair creaks as he sits down across from her. He clears his throat several times.

"Something you have to say?" She glances up.

"Yeah." He's having trouble spitting it out. "Thanks. For taking care of Lizzie."

Olivia props her chin on one hand to consider him. It was sweet of his daughter to try to fix them; but she told George that she'd rather not be grouped with Kathy and the baby, and that applies to Lizzie too. No matter what a fifteen-year-old thinks, their problems aren't the same.

"We had fun," she says, letting the now-habitual antipathy creep into her tone. "We started the Elliot-Stabler-doesn't-trust-me club."

And his face hardens, and they start another day.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Yay for updating as fast as I can... please R&R and make it worth it. :P_


	24. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: See previous.

Sorry if this is below par; I wrote most of it in the car or in my vertically challenged bunk bed in Kentucky.

* * *

_There is no remedy for love but to love more. _

– _Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

"Elliot, stop!" she yells, and when he raises his arm for another punch she grabs it and wrestles him backwards. She doesn't even know what the kid said, but Elliot was in his face, close enough to hear. And now Fin's slamming into the interview room, grabbing the kid in case he gets ideas about fighting back, while Olivia struggles with her partner. "If you have a problem, Stabler," she hisses in his ear, "take it out on me, _I'm_ the one you're mad at."

Elliot stills and then yanks out of her hold and leaves the room. Over their witness's head Fin twirls a finger next to his ear. _Loony._

"Sorry about him," she says confidentially, for the third time in as many days. "He has anger management issues." She's ready to bet that Cragen will get in on this now. _George's gonna have his work cut out for him,_ she thinks, and suddenly feels very tired.

* * *

Elliot slumps across from him. "Why are we doing this in an interview room?" he casts a distasteful glance toward the two-way mirror.

"Short notice," George says smoothly. "Don't worry, no-one's watching. Yet."

"Great," Elliot mutters, "I'm a psych emergency."

He doesn't deny it. "Do you know why you're here, Elliot?"

"Sure. My temper is affecting my work."

"Good." George is fairly sure where all this started – besides, here he can have the talk he told Olivia he would. "I want you to take me back to Chris Micelli."

"I'd rather not."

George ignores this. "I know the beginning of the story. Why don't you start with when you and Olivia went out to tail Micelli."

Elliot's hands, folded on the table, tighten convulsively; all the same he knows what is expected of him. "The suspect was on foot," he begins, as though testifying at trial, "so we left the car and followed, but somehow we got turned around so that he was coming towards us. We split up – we didn't think he knew our faces, but we figured he might get suspicious seeing two of us."

_We, _George writes on his pad. He'll have to remind Elliot that he still refers to himself and his partner as a unit.

"I took the lead. We were linked." Elliot taps his ear to show his meaning. "So Liv told me when he passed her. The idea was to wait a few seconds, then turn and follow again. But before we could, Liv just – stopped talking, and kind of gasped, and I – I knew." He ducks his head, evidently fascinated by the twisting of his own hands. "By the time I turned around, she was on the ground and Micelli was running." He glances up defensively. "And I turn around pretty damn fast."

"I'm sure you do."

"She was yelling at me to follow him," Elliot tells the table. "_Go, El, I'm fine, go._ So I went, but he had too far a head start, and I lost him around the corner . . . the whole way back I thought maybe I shouldn't have gone."

"You had to try."

"Yeah, I guess."

"How was Olivia when you reached her?"

Elliot shrugs, uneasy with the retelling. "She was bleeding pretty badly, but she kept her head."

"Was she scared?"

"She didn't show it."

"Were you?"

"Hell yeah." Elliot meets his gaze squarely. "I was afraid she was going to bleed out right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do."

George lets that hang in the air for a moment, then says gently, "Liv's fine now."

"It was such a near thing, George. You know her heart stopped in the OR."

He didn't know that, but before he can collect himself there is a knock at the door and Olivia herself pokes her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, George, but I need Elliot back for a while."

George watches Elliot reassume his everyday face. "What is it?"

"No thanks to you, we got the name of the guy Kaitlin left the bar with, and he's got priors. Novak'll have a warrant by the time we get there; c'mon."

* * *

"Not even a _Playboy,_" Elliot says in disgust, shoving Marcus Howard's desk drawer shut. "Olivia, are you sure this guy had priors?"

"Stalking, stat rape, and assault." It's gotten to the point where such questions, even from her partner, only hit a dull ache. "Be quiet; you're not helping."

"Helping what?"

"My sense of smell." Warner said, upon her preliminary exam, that their vic Kaitlin might have been poisoned. To that end Olivia is on the floor rummaging through Howard's liquor cabinet, opening bottles. "Call me crazy, but I don't think that's vodka," she says, passing a small flask up to Elliot.

He sniffs. "Definitely not. Too bad Howard's not at home to tell us what it is." Absently he offers her a hand up.

Forgetting, she almost takes the hand, then shakes her head and gets to her feet herself. "Fin and Lake are getting him at the private lab where he works," she informs him. "We done here?"

"You were the one who was so eager to get here."

"Well, now I want to get that to the lab."

* * *

"How long did you stay with her?"

"Until the OR, when they made me sit in the waiting room."

George plays devil's advocate. "She couldn't've known you were there, Elliot."

"Sure she could've. Besides, what was I supposed to do, leave her alone like that?" Elliot smiles faintly. "Of course, later she forced me to go."

"Tell me about that."

Elliot picks over the words carefully. "Liv didn't realize that she was still, you know, in danger. She didn't know she'd have to go back into surgery. I couldn't bring myself to tell her, yet."

"She had to go back into surgery?" George repeats, although Elliot was the one to tell him about this in the first place.

Without further prompt Elliot says, "She panicked. She was so scared, George, I can't even describe it. She . . ." He trails off, fist clenching on the table, as though squeezing an invisible hand.

"She what, Elliot?"

He swallows hard. "She begged me . . . not to let them take her. I had to swear not to move from outside the door. _Promise, _she said . . . _promise,_" he whispers, to himself.

"All that must have been hard for you."

"If Liv needs me calm, I'll be calm," Elliot says, shrugging slightly.

"What else is Olivia afraid of?"

"Nothing," Elliot says instantly, then chokes a half laugh. "I mean, probably all the obvious things, like death and AIDS and being raped, but nothing so. . ."

"Concrete?"

"Yeah, that's it. And she never shows fear like that." Elliot stares at his hands. "I've known Liv for a long time, you know, and she's never let herself go, she's never let me see her. . . ."

_Vulnerable, _George fills in mentally, but feels Elliot knows this and just doesn't want to say it.

For the second time today they are interrupted by a knock at the door; this time Fin looks in. "Guess what jury finally came back?"

Promptly they both say, "Micelli."

* * *

_TBC..._

_So wow, great response to last chapter -- please keep it up! 3 peri_


	25. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Life appears to me to be too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrong. _

_– Charlotte Bronte_

* * *

The squad room is a place of celebration. "Guilty on all counts," Casey is saying over and over, accepting high fives from every member of SVU. Olivia's getting a share of congratulations too, constantly having to fend off bear hugs from John and Fin. The captain watches the scene with a tolerant smile. Even Elliot can't wipe the idiotic grin off his face.

"So it's life at least," Lake says.

"I want to see a needle in his arm," Elliot mutters.

"Do you," says Olivia evenly, but everybody else is too excited to let the antagonism stand, and at that moment Fin finally manages to tackle her and lift her off the floor.

John watches him spin her laughing halfway around. "I vote we call it a day."

"What about Howard?" Elliot asks, out of the loop.

"Missin' in action," Fin supplies, "but he's supposed to meet his boss for coffee tomorrow so we'll pick 'im up then. I'm with Munch. Let's go for drinks."

Everybody's in except Cragen, who waves them all on fondly. He watches his detectives and Casey slam out of the room in a flurry of coats and papers, Benson and Stabler casually on opposite sides of the group, and he can't help but think, _Take your victories while you can get them._

* * *

"I thought you said you were coming here a lot lately," Casey murmurs, eyeing the bartender, who keeps casting surprised looks Olivia's way.

"I am." Olivia follows her gaze. "He's just used to seeing me alone these days. We have an understanding. He has to cut me off."

Casey rubs the edge of the bar, saddened by the image of Olivia in here night after night, drinking alone. She wonders if this should feel awkward, the six of them in a row at the bar, but John and Fin and Lake insinuated themselves between the warring partners as though it were daily routine, so she followed suit. For a party with battling attendees, the mood is surprisingly light. And now Olivia is looking at her in concern; she's bringing it down. She clears her throat. "Your testimony was the lock, you know. People believe you like it's survival instinct."

Olivia waves a hand, letting the heavy moment pass. "It's the homicides that'll put him away for life. How about Marina? Did she help a lot?"

"Yeah, she was good. I was wondering why you didn't come." Olivia looks down and Casey presses, "Elliot did."

"Yeah, I'd've had to sit next to him." Olivia sighs, then starts to smile. "_You_ were pretty funny to watch when I was testifying."

"Was I?"

"Mm-hmm. You couldn't decide whether to put yourself between me and Elliot or me and Micelli." Olivia's laughing at the memory. Casey feels herself turning red.

"Well, I didn't want to ask which you'd prefer. You'd get offended and say neither and then get on my case if I tried either one."

"I'm glad you didn't ask, because watching you was amusing." Olivia considers. "And that probably is what I would have done."

"Which _would _you prefer?"

"Case, you of all people know how often I testify. I like seeing the perps as I help put them away." Olivia runs a finger around the rim of her glass, more serious by the moment. "That said, watching Elliot's face when I talked about it . . . ."

"But you must have talked about what happened."

"Not really. I mean, none of it was news to him, but his face. That was interesting. It almost made me forget . . ." She shakes her head sharply and forces a smile. "So there you have it. I'm not getting offended, but the answer's still neither."

Casey slants a look down the bar toward Elliot, who's talking to Munch. "You know, Liv." Olivia's patient as she finds words. "Elliot was just a disaster, and I'm sure he said things he didn't – "

"Don't. Not now." Olivia sips her drink and changes the subject. "Look, it's a new guy. Bartender's apprentice. Sounds like a really bad novel."

It's not the time, Casey decides. "They have to learn somehow, right?" she says, looking at the guy. "Kinda cute. If he wasn't bleached."

Next to her Lake snorts, and Olivia bends forward to cock an eyebrow at him. "Jealous?" she quips.

"Absolutely green with envy. I may have to punch him."

"Chester dear can get a teensy bit possessive," Casey adds with a straight face.

"The hell?" Fin leans toward them. "Lake possessive? How can that be when Casey's all mine?"

"All _yours?_" Olivia repeats, feigning indignation. "What was last night to you? Didn't it mean – "

Casey cracks and starts snickering. By the time Elliot and Munch look over, all four of them are helpless with laughter.

* * *

When the party breaks up, Casey catches Olivia heading for the subway station. "Let me drive you home."

"You've been drinking."

"Oh. Right."

Olivia looks her friend up and down and, because she herself has had only one beer – half, actually, since she knocked it over laughing – holds out a hand. "Keys. Where'd you park?"

She soon regrets this because Casey is sober enough to have a one-track mind but too drunk to take hints, and all she wants to talk about is Elliot. "He was really worried about you."

"So I hear. Where do I turn?"

"Not for a while. He didn't sleep."

"I'm well aware of that." Olivia considers just ignoring her, but then she wouldn't get a break from the chatter.

"Liv, don't you think it's time to give up the game? The two of you are driving everybody crazy."

"It's not everybody's business."

"Olivia." Casey turns toward her, wide-eyed, as though whatever she is about to say should be obvious. "We're talking about the man who refused to leave your side until he was sure you'd be all right. We're talking about the man who drove over to check on you every time he was ordered to nap."

"We're talking about the man who no longer trusts me," Olivia feels compelled to point out.

"But you still work together."

_When you can't trust your partner, it's time to get a new one._ "Well," says Olivia, with the unsettling feeling of not being able to explain how she knows she's right.

"So we're talking about the man," Casey says lucidly, "who was so terrified of losing you that he took things a little too far trying to protect you."

_El, _she said when she woke up, and he'd been holding her hand. _Liv, I'm right here._ Her eyes sting. "Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do I turn?"

* * *

The bathroom is spinning. This, Elliot thinks vaguely, constitutes a problem, since he doesn't remember having _that _much to drink. Then again it was a celebration – of what he can't recall. Maybe it's actually spinning.

"Honey?" Kathy says from the doorway. He looks up at her. Up. He doesn't remember how he wound up on the floor either. She crouches next to him and kisses his forehead. "You're hot."

"Thank you."

"C'mon, let's go to bed." She manages to tug him to his feet. "If you don't feel better in the morning I'll call you in sick."

"But –" he starts, but can't finish the sentence.

* * *

_TBC..._

_... and here we go again. Thanks so much for all the reviews; please keep it up!_


	26. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: See previous.

I must admit to being disappointed that you're all too busy hating Kathy to catch what's going on... but you'll find out... mwahaha.

* * *

_It's what you learn after you know everything that counts. _

– _Earl Weaver_

* * *

Everybody, it occurs to her, is trying to fix them. Olivia eyes the empty desk across from her. Without Elliot the rest of the unit is cheerful. Is it really a holiday to them? Do they affect their coworkers that much? She ponders this. Certainly it isn't a holiday for _her._ Whether or not her partner is physically present, she can't escape what has come between them. The fact that introducing him as "my partner" now has a cold, hollow ring to it.

And since it doesn't make a difference either way, she'd rather have him there across from her. That's either selfish or pathetic. Or possibly it's just that when he's actually there she can watch his back properly. That's it, Olivia decides, and sits up a little straighter.

When she looks up Cragen is standing over her. "Earth to Benson," he says, unamused.

"Sorry, Cap."

"Where's your partner?"

"Kathy called. He's taking a sick day." Olivia bends over a file, then realizes he's still standing there. "It's not a problem, is it?"

"Stabler never takes sick days."

Well, when you get right down to it, no-one in this unit takes sick days if they can help it. Olivia would be worried if she hadn't remembered something Lizzie said a few days ago. "You know what I think, Cap?"

"Do I want to?"

Ha, ha, ha. "I think it's really a baby's-crawling kind of day. Lizzie said he was close."

The captain thinks about this and shrugs. Like all of them, Elliot has plenty of sick days piled up to take if he needs them. Cragen sits on her desk. "Maybe," he says, "this would be a good time to talk about you two."

"Or maybe not." It's an epidemic. First Lizzie, then Casey, now this.

Predictably, he ignores her protest. "I'm not worried about you," he says, holding her gaze. "I'm not worried about him. Much. How this war affects your personal lives is none of my business. But I'm worried that I'm losing my best team."

"You're not." She's right here, after all, and Elliot will be back tomorrow.

"Aren't I?" He's still looking at her steadily, until his eyes become a mirror and she sees.

She shouldn't be surprised to realize that he's right.

When she looks down he carries on, "You're doing perfectly competent police work. You're not pulling any crap, you're not making me defend your asses to IAB. And I'm afraid you're losing it."

"Losing what?" she asks her desk.

"Whatever it is that makes you two better than all the rest." Cragen stands. "And if you haven't figured out what that is, I'm not gonna say."

As if she could possibly not know what he means. Olivia watches her captain disappear into his office, and she looks across again at Elliot's empty desk.

She misses him. It's unsettling to admit, even to herself, but eventually one has to face these things. She misses the partner she could trust to see her weakness and think of her the same the next day. She misses the only person in her life who was always on her side when it counted.

If only he hadn't become a stranger.

* * *

"Liv! Your lab results are in."

"Already?" Bewildered, she takes the folder from Munch. "I just sent that in."

"Apparently they were already testing two other samples of the stuff; it's popping up everywhere. Get this: it's an extract of – "

"A mushroom," Olivia reads off the report in amazement. "A mushroom?"

"A highly toxic fungus that appears to be the new fad among those who favor poison."

"Like we need one." She's immersed in the report. "_Gyromitra periculenta._ That sounds promising."

"_Periculum._ Danger."

"Thank you for the Latin lesson. Can you tell me why Marcus Howard had a bottle of this stuff disguised as vodka? Speaking of which, where the hell _is _Howard?"

John sighs. "Fin just called. He must know we're on to him – "

"He skipped. Great." Olivia heads for the captain's office. "Possession of this stuff has got to be illegal," she's saying as she nearly runs into the emerging Cragen.

"Warner called," he informs her.

"If that's the autopsy on Kaitlin, it's perfect timing." She hands him her folder. "I think we can get a warrant for Howard off this."

Cragen glances it over and nods. "Go see Warner. John, you can call Novak."

* * *

"Where's your partner?" Melinda frowns. "Or arch-enemy, or whatever he is these days."

"If you mean Elliot, these days he's the guy I have to sit across from every damn day." Olivia says it lightly, as though maybe this will make the words hurt less. "And he's home sick. Or baby-watching. Either way we don't have to deal with him, and the whole unit is thrilled."

Melinda thinks they're probably more excited about the lack of animosity than the lack of Elliot, but for the sake of preserving said lack of animosity she doesn't dare say this. Instead she just smiles, glad to have one of them to herself, and pulls back the sheet over their body. "Like I suspected, she was poisoned."

Olivia nods: this is not news to her. "Please tell me it was _Gyromitra periculenta._"

"Nice work."

Around a large grin Olivia says, "Lab was fast. We found it in our suspect's apartment. Tell me more about it."

"A drawn-out death, and not a pleasant one." Melinda lists some of the symptoms and lets the detective mull it over.

"Kaitlin was found in the park three days after she was last seen. So he had to have somewhere to keep her . . . but his apartment is too far from either site."

"She would have been incapacitated enough to prevent escape," Melinda points out.

"The whole time . . ." Olivia holds up a hand as she is interrupted by her cell phone. She frowns at the caller ID. "Hey – "

Melinda watches the color drain from her friend's face. "Is he all right?" Olivia asks urgently, then, disappointed, "Right, of course not. What _happened?_" She listens, face growing more drawn by the second, and says, "Stop. I'm putting you on speaker, okay?" She punches the button and nods to Melinda. "Honey, can you give me those symptoms again?"

The voice that tumbles from the phone is a woman's, scratchy and panicked. "He was sick last night, feverish, kind of confused, this morning was worse, I made him stay in bed – I could tell he was hurting but he couldn't say where. I left the room and he tried to get up and passed out cold so I called 911."

Olivia is looking at her desperately, seeking answers. Melinda nods. "Textbook _Gyromitra._ Make them test for it right away; it's not in a standard tox screen but time is crucial."

"I'm on my way," she says into the phone, making for the door.

"Liv. Who is it?"

Already outside, Olivia looks back at her briefly. "Elliot," she says, and then she's gone.

* * *

_TBC..._

_:ducks: So _Gyromitra _is a real genus of fungus, and it really is poisonous. The particular species I made up; I was looking at _Gyromitra esculenta _and tweaked it a little for the story... and also so that I'm not going against fact, since I am far from a fungus expert. Pleasepleaseplease R&R. _

_Oh and I'm going out of town for a few days but I'll update as soon as I'm back._


	27. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other thing. _

– _Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

She drives to the hospital like a madwoman, attempting to bark orders but be gentle at the same time, since on the other end of the phone Kathy Stabler is one peg away from losing it. The doctors won't listen to her; after minutes that feel much too long she gets an ER nurse on the line. Olivia identifies herself, adding, "Detective Stabler's my partner. We're working a case involving _Gyromitra periculenta,_ and he's showing symptoms. You see why this should be tested for immediately."

"Do you trust this woman?" the nurse says, and Olivia is confused until she hears Kathy answer:

"With my husband's life? Every day."

And the nurse, bless her, takes matters into her own hands, leaving Olivia with no other task except to drive She's always been good at being singleminded; right now her goal is _get there. _There is nothing else.

* * *

The call comes just as Don is beginning to wonder where the hell she's gotten to. Olivia reports wearily, "Kaitlin died of the same stuff that we found in Howard's apartment."

"We've already got an APB out on him for possession. You heading back?"

"Not exactly."

There is an edge to her voice that gives him pause. "Meaning?"

"I'm at the hospital. Elliot's been admitted, and I think it was the same stuff again."

His insides flip. Don fumbles for the lab report that is still somewhere on his desk. "_How?_ From your search?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I think it has to be ingested. I should find out, shouldn't I?" She sounds discouraged at the prospect. But he understands: there can't be enough room left in her head for mechanics. Hell, there's barely enough left in _his._

"I'll find out," he says. "You sit tight until you know what's what with your partner."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Liv." God, how Don hates himself right now. "If it turns out, you know, that he's gonna be in for a while, well, I might need you back."

"I understand. But not yet?" She sounds lost. If Olivia cracks, he thinks, the rest of them just might fall apart.

"Not yet," he promises.

* * *

Kathy's called the twins' school to let them know what's going on, she's left messages for her older daughters, and she and Olivia sit passing Eli between them, trying to distract themselves. But the same Olivia who never fails to be amused at that baby's giggle seems to have the worry lines etched into her forehead. Kathy knows she's worse, but that's something she'd really rather not concentrate on just now.

Unfortunately this is the moment the doctor decides to tell them something. Short and harried, he takes a look at their faces and says bracingly, "He's stable."

Kathy breathes a sigh of relief, then freaks out all over again when she realizes that Olivia isn't doing the same.

After all, the detective is the one who does this every day.

"Who was it who thought to test for _Gyromitra?_"

"That would be me," Olivia says, and shakes his hand. "Detective Benson, Detective Stabler's partner."

"Detective. That explains the quick thinking. You were right, and we have to hope we caught it in time."

Kathy can't think of words. Olivia saves her: "Have to hope?"

His eyes are kind. "It's a very dangerous toxin in his system. I have every hope that a strong man like Detective Stabler can beat it; however, things don't always work out for the best. We'll know more in a few days."

"A few _days,_" Olivia repeats, incredulous.

"I'm afraid so." The doctor hesitates. "He's still unconscious, Mrs. Stabler, but you can see him now."

She looks to Olivia, who nods tremulously and plucks Eli from her lap with the air of one clutching at a lifeline. "You go. I'll stick around and babysit."

* * *

"So you're saying he drank it," Don clarifies.

"Had to," Melinda says. "It would have had a funny aftertaste. Fever and other symptoms would start in about two hours, no more than six. Did they catch it in time?"

"Dunno. That's definitely it, but Olivia says we won't know for a few days."

"That's right, they tend to have a crisis after two to three days. Until then – " She stops abruptly.

Until then, Don thinks, there's still a chance he might lose one of his finest detectives. He clears his throat. "Would it be easy to get this stuff?"

"No. It's not native. My guess is your guy works in a lab."

"Yeah, Munch pulled the files and every case involving _Gyromitra_ had a perp connected with a private lab." Incidentally, Marcus Howard works at one of them. Don taps a pen against his desktop. "Anything else I should know?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Should Olivia be tested? She and Elliot both did that search…."

"He drank it," Melinda reminds him gently. "If nobody's showing symptoms you're probably okay, but I'd rather you all be tested."

"We can do that." He draws in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I'm gonna let you go, Doc, and I'm gonna figure this out."

* * *

Maureen and the phone call from Cragen arrive simultaneously, both anxious. Olivia hands Eli over to his big sister, who has her heart set on finding her father, and follows them down the hall with the phone glued to her ear. Her heart is sinking fast. "I understand."

"We'll do this as quickly as possible, Olivia. And then we're all coming back there with you. Warner wants everybody tested, to be on the safe side."

"I said I understand. Just let me tell Kathy I'm leaving." She snaps the phone shut and is about to follow Maureen into the room when the nurse who's led them there stops her. "Sorry, family only."

"I'm his partner."

"Family only."

"No, see, El – Detective Stabler – he's –" She struggles to define their relationship, to explain why she can't leave without seeing him.

The nurse appears mildly offended. "His _wife_ is in there."

How _dare_ she? Olivia recoils inwardly. "Listen," she says in her most dangerous tone, "that man and I have worked together for nine years. He's my next of kin, he's all I've got, and if I'm about to lose him then I want to see him first."

She wins.

"Kath," she says quietly, shutting the door behind herself, "I've gotta go but if you don't mind I'll be back real soon." Kathy, who has pulled up a chair by her husband's head, nods and Olivia goes on, "Want me to bring anything?"

Kathy looks lost. Maureen steps in. "Can we think about it, and I'll call you?"

"Yeah, sure." She steps up to the other side of the bed now and makes herself look at Elliot.

God, if it weren't for the tubes and wires and that hideous hospital gown he could be sacked out in the crib. You can't always tell what's wrong. She glances across at his wife and daughter, who are talking in murmurs. _They_ trust her, at least.

"El," she whispers, and immediately feels rather foolish. "Elliot, I…I'm still mad at you."

She can picture him laughing at this, she can picture him in her own hospital room. "Watch out for the fat nurse," she tells him, even though there isn't one. If only he'd respond. Shit, she has to _leave._

At least she's not leaving him alone. What that must have cost him…Olivia reminds herself that they're still not speaking.

"Stay with me, El, okay?" she mutters, and she flees the room.

* * *

_TBC..._

_I'm back, and I loved the response! Please R&R again!_


	28. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

_Only the strongest people in this world have the guts to cry. _

– _Michael Carpovitch_

* * *

"Okay," the captain says to his assembled detectives, "we've got a small window of time to fill. But first, if anyone's feeling sick or dizzy, tell me now."

Because, John fills in mentally, they don't need two of their number hovering in that pesky place between life and death. He shakes his head along with the rest, sneaking glances at Olivia. He can't understand why she's bothering to pretend she's okay. It's not like she's fooling anyone.

"Liv," Cragen says, gently. "What did you and Elliot do yesterday afternoon?"

"Interviewed the kid, the bartender, Ryan. Elliot lost his temper again and you ordered him to meet with Huang. He spent most of the rest of the day doing that, except for when we searched Howard's apartment."

"Anything to drink?"

"Soda, straight from the machine," says Olivia, who's probably been turning all this over and over in her mind, searching for what was missed. "If he left the room I was with it; it can't have been that."

"Okay. What time did you all leave wherever the hell you went to celebrate?"

"Maloney's," Fin supplies, and looks around to John and Lake. "What, eleven-thirty?"

"That gives him barely enough time to get home before Kathy noticed symptoms. How much did he have to drink?"

"Just one beer," John says. Since he heard the news he's been racking his brain for every detail of the time he spent on that bar stool next to Elliot. "He didn't seems very celebratory."

If possible, this makes Olivia's mood darken further.

"But," he says, "he kept getting glasses of water. Not from the regular barkeep –"

A file folder thuds to the floor as Olivia, who's been slumped on the edge of her desk, sits up straight. "The apprentice," she says. "Remember, Lake, the guy Casey thought was cute?"

"Yeah, I never saw him there before last night."

"Me neither, and I'm in there all the time." Slowly she wilts as this reality hits her. "_Shit._"

"Don't start blaming yourself yet," Cragen cautions.

"That kid looked nothing like Marcus Howard," Fin points out.

John hadn't thought to compare them; now he does. "Same build. Kept the baseball cap pulled pretty low, didn't he? Wrong hair color, obviously, but nobody could match that, it was bleached."

The captain has been scribbling on a notepad. "So this is what we need from Elliot," he says, handing it to Lake, who looks bewildered.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"What do you mean, what we need from Elliot?" Olivia demands. "He's in no state to be giving us anything."

Cragen looks between them steadily, hard choices in his eyes. John remembers having to make those during his brief stint heading the unit. "At some point, Elliot may be able to give us something," the captain says heavily. "We're all too close, but we can to something to alleviate that. Does that answer your questions?"

Lake and Olivia wear identical tight-lipped expressions of _I-don't-like-this._ If John didn't agree so much, he'd find it hilarious.

* * *

They must look like quite a crowd, all sitting around holding cotton in the crooks of their arms, but at least this makes it easy for the nurse to find them. "I'm looking for a Captain Cragen?"

"That's me." Don stands and shakes her hand. "You have news?"

"You asked us to let you know when Detective Stabler was awake and could answer questions…now hold on," she says, affronted, as the detectives all get to their feet at once. "I don't know about answering questions, as he's confused and in pain, but he is awake. They're giving him pain meds as soon as they finish checking him over, so if you want to try you'd best do it before they put him back to sleep. And be gentle."

"We wouldn't dream of otherwise," Don says, meaning it. He'd rather they didn't have to bother Elliot at all.

"I'm coming," Olivia says, pale. Don considers her. A day ago he wouldn't have trusted her to be gentle with her partner, but things have changed. Of all of them she's too close.

Elliot's all she's got. It hasn't escaped his notice that she's been alienating the only person she wholeheartedly trusts.

"Fine," he says, "but Lake does the talking. I don't want Elliot to even know you're there." When they're gone he turns to Munch and Fin, who are still standing uncertainly. "As soon as you're not bleeding I want you two to go talk to the bartender at Maloney's. We can't pick up his new employee until Elliot gives us a reason to, but get a head start."

* * *

Poor Lake is trying his hardest, but he's losing Elliot fast. Not that he ever had him in the first place. The Stabler children are huddled in the hall; Kathy is in the corner holding herself together, since neither of them had the heart to kick her out; and Olivia hovers by the door, trying to convince herself that her heart isn't breaking. Because the nurse wasn't exaggerating when she said that Elliot was in pain: she can see it in the lines of his face, in the way he keeps rolling his head around, in how he absolutely cannot concentrate on what Lake is trying to ask him.

When Elliot mumbles something like "_Stop,_" both women start forward convulsively; Kathy hesitates, her eyes sliding towards the detectives. Olivia steps up and taps Lake hard on the shoulder. She can't take this anymore. It's as simple as that. Lake passes her the notepad with Cragen's questions and she glances them over. So little they need from him.

The head of the bed is canted up so that she only has to take Kathy's vacated chair and bend forward slightly to put her face on a level with her partner's. She catches the side of his face with one hand, directing his gaze towards herself. "Elliot."

A muttered half-protest. Olivia goes on, dropping her voice so that Lake and Kathy can't hear, just in case this doesn't work. "El, it's me, it's Liv, I need – I need you to be stable for me. Because you were wrong, remember, I'm not the most stable one. You are. And I need you right now. C'mon, El."

Slowly the fever-bright eyes fasten on her own. "Liv," he whispers.

Olivia smiles so hard she fears her face might break. "Yeah. Good. You're in the hospital, El; do you know why?"

He shakes his head slightly against her palm. "That's okay," she says. "You were poisoned. The bottle in Howard's apartment, remember? We need – " She breaks off as a spasm of pain crosses his features and his eyes clench shut.

Shit. She can't lose him now. She takes his hand in both her own and rubs it anxiously, calling his name until his breathing evens out. "El, listen, this is what we're gonna do. You're gonna squeeze my hand as hard as it hurts. I can't feel you." A strangled gasp escapes her throat as his hand closes around her fingers like a vise. "Good," she manages. "We'll make this quick, okay?"

In answer Elliot forces his eyes open to meet hers. He's putting himself so completely in her care that it takes her breath away.

"Think back," she orders softly. "Did you have anything to drink yesterday afternoon besides the soda with lunch?"

Cogs turning, then a shake of the head.

"Okay. John says at the bar you had one beer and several glasses of water. Is that right?"

A slight nod.

"Did you stop anywhere on the way home? Have anything in the car?"

Negative. Olivia draws in a deep breath and pats his arm with the hand that's not going numb. "Last thing, El, and it's very important. At any time yesterday did you notice a funny aftertaste?"

The room holds its collective breath. Elliot closes his eyes and, panicked, she's about to remind him to focus when he mutters, voice scratchy, "Yeah…like moldy bread…looking all over for gum…."

"When?"

"Leaving the bar…the…."

"Maloney's. We were at Maloney's."

"Yeah," he says, louder, sensing that this is vital, and immediately starts coughing. A nurse who's been hovering unnoticed comes out of the woodwork to hook a bag up to the IV. Olivia remains where she is, fingers tangled with her partner's, until Lake taps her shoulder and she gently extricates herself.

"I won't go far," she murmurs, though he's halfway gone already. She puts on a brave face for the kids outside the door. She tells Lake to report without her, ignores the hesitant way he claps her on the back. Tears are burning the backs of her eyes; blindly Olivia hides herself behind chairs in a corner of the waiting room. She rests her head on her knees and falls apart.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please keep the reviews coming! I love them and I seem to have psychic readers again :P._


	29. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: See previous.

This chapter once again references "Coffee Break." If you haven't read it, the napkin won't make any sense... although I'm not sure it makes sense anyway. Enjoy!

* * *

_Friendship requires forgiveness and service. _

– _Kairos 166_

* * *

Apparently it is not unusual, in this particular waiting room, to see a woman on the floor behind the ugly potted plant, weeping silently into her knees. Olivia knows this because in all the hours she's been huddled in the corner, no-one has so much as looked at her twice.

She should be anywhere but here people-watching. She should be back at the precinct, tracking down the perp, whoever the hell he turns out to be; or else she should be actually with Elliot, instead of just sitting here. She can't take her eyes off the people, though, the other poor souls in this waiting room. Is the middle-aged couple anxious about a father, a sister, a child? Is that old man waiting on news of his wife, the one he still sees as twenty-six and beautiful?

Did that young woman with the reddened eyes also manage to piss off the only overbearing, heedless, infuriating source of stability in her life?

Her cell phone keeps vibrating. She can't bring herself to turn it off: it's a link to the outside world. She listens to the messages as they come in – mostly Cragen, asking after Elliot, telling her they could use her but to take as much time as she needs. Fin proves the soft heart she's always suspected in him when he texts her their negative test results. He'll have known that the only thing that could make this situation worse would be someone else falling victim to her shortsightedness. Fin knows guilt.

"Olivia."

She glances up. If Lizzie is surprised to find her father's partner hiding behind a plasticky plant, she doesn't show it. "Hey, Liz."

Lizzie sits in the nearest chair, the one whose legs Olivia has been memorizing when her neck cramps from looking up at other human beings. "Dad was asking about you," the girl says.

"Yeah?"

She hikes her feet up onto the chair and traces her toes and the strap of her sandal. "Yeah. Something about getting tested. I think he's afraid you'll get sick too."

Typical. He's always trying to protect her when she needs it least. Olivia refuses to cry over this.

Lizzie blinks rapidly. "He's asleep again. They gave him more of the pain stuff. Olivia?"

"Mm-hmm."

A shake of the head. "No…stupid…." Lizzie swipes at the tears that roll down her cheeks.

Olivia gets up, ignoring the cramps in her legs, and hugs the girl close. "Sweetie, this is one of those times when there aren't any stupid questions…but there aren't any real answers either."

"I know." She sniffs and pushes her away. "Aren't you supposed to be catching the guy who did this?"

Absently Olivia fingers her cell phone. The outside world, where she can turn left without tripping over raw memories of a time that might be gone forever. "Yeah," she says. "I am."

* * *

It's dark when she leaves the hospital. Olivia spends the entire drive to the precinct wondering when it got dark. She wants light; she wants the morning; she wants a new start.

What is waiting for her is none of these, but rather an angry captain. "I thought I told you to let Lake do the talking."

"You did," she says, looking around for Lake, who is two steps behind Cragen and apologetic. _Slipped, _he mouths. She shrugs at him; at least he tried.

"So you just ignored me," Cragen clarifies.

Olivia looks him in the eye. "_Yes._ Lake wasn't getting anywhere, and he can assure you that I was completely objective. And might I add that it worked."

The captain's lips thin. "We'll talk later," he informs her, and stalks away muttering about her _and_ her partner being reckless and justifying themselves with _it worked._

"And that," Olivia says to Lake as brightly as she can manage, "is how you do it." She glances at Fin and Munch, who immediately pretend they weren't watching. "What've we got?"

Fin starts, "Guy gave the barkeep a fake ID, of course – "

"_But,_" Munch adds, "we showed him Howard's picture and it's a match. And it was his second day, he was only serving water, which explains why only Elliot got hit."

"So what's with the boxes?" She eyes the stack of cardboard cartons next to Lake's and Fin's desks.

"Credit card receipts," Lake sighs. "Stores in the area remember seeing him, but not what he bought."

"Security cameras," Munch says unnecessarily, nodding towards his video monitors. "We're gonna get him, Liv, we just need a little time."

* * *

They work through the night; by mid-morning the detectives are even crankier than they'd normally be after pulling an all-nighter. Olivia seems, to Fin, to have more energy than the rest; but she uses it to bark at the others so hard and so often that finally it is firmly suggested that she take a break.

Predictably, this does not improve her attitude. "Like I need more of you trying to mother me," she grumbles.

"I'm not trying to mother you," Munch retorts, "I just don't want to be in the same room as you."

_Ouch,_ Fin thinks, applauding mentally as Olivia turns, stiff, to her computer.

Cragen, who's been standing with Munch at the video screens, gives her a look. "When I said take a break, Detective, I meant from us."

"Ten seconds to Google something," she snaps, scribbling on a scrap of paper, and she's gone in a flurry of hurt and determination.

Curious, Fin stands, stretches the kinks out of his back, and checks her screen. "A smoothie shop?"

* * *

Kathy's spent time talking to her husband, but there's only so much that can be said to someone who doesn't answer back. The twins are forcibly in school, as is Kathleen; Maureen has refused to return to her daily life but allowed herself to be sent home with Eli.

It doesn't matter, Kathy figures, if their children are here today. The doctors assure them that it's tomorrow that matters. This at least she has to be grateful for.

She's glad when Olivia taps on the door, just for someone to talk to. "Did you catch him?"

"Not yet." Olivia smiles tightly. "I'm kind of having a time-out. We'll get him, though. Matter of time."

Kathy nods – waiting she understands – and gestures to the smoothie cup in the detective's hands. "For me?" she teases.

"Might be a better idea than saving it for Elliot." Olivia rolls the cup uneasily between her palms. "It's more of a gesture kind of thing."

"Leave it for him. Sit." There are chairs scattered around from when the whole family was here. Olivia takes the one across the bed from her, setting the smoothie on the nightstand. Kathy, watching her produce a pen and write on the napkin, clears her throat. "I've been wanting to ask you something."

Olivia's gaze finally catches on Elliot. She swallows and glances up. "Yeah?"

"Yesterday you said something about Elliot being your next of kin. But he told me you changed that."

"I did. I shouldn't've. He's a little more reliable than my brother." Olivia looks down at his face again and smiles, just a little. "I'd like to keep it at Elliot, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

They lock eyes. Olivia shrugs. "You don't need to, but everyone would understand if you did. If you know what I mean."

Kathy does. She smiles hard, trying to show that this doesn't bother her, and in the same motion both women glance away.

"I should get back," Olivia mutters, standing.

"I'll tell him you dropped by."

"Just show him the napkin and let him figure it out. I'll be back later."

When she's gone Kathy pretends to herself that she's just stretching her legs and takes a look at the napkin. Olivia didn't sign it, just wrote, _I asked the girl behind the counter what she thought would suit a tall, dark and handsome jackass._

When Elliot wakes up he reads it and snorts. She doesn't ask.

* * *

Without knocking she bursts breathless into his office. "We didn't lose it," Olivia announces.

Don raises an eyebrow. "Didn't lose what?"

"It. You said we lost it but – "

Yeah, yeah. "Then what the hell happened to it, Detective?"

"We just…misplaced it for a while."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Don says dryly, but as she slams back out he's thinking that Benson and Stabler just might pull it off again.

Provided they're both alive to do so.

And that they didn't break it first.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Love to you all; please R&R!_


	30. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: See previous.

Sorry for the confusion about "it" at the end of last chapter. I was referencing chapter 25 where Cragen tells Olivia that he's afraid they're losing what makes them better than the rest at their job.

BYOT warning in effect.

* * *

_You've got a whole heart  
__Give me the hard part  
__I can love that too_

– _David Wilcox_

* * *

They finally find Marcus Howard under his fourth identity, on a list of applicants for a new position at the city's most expensive private laboratory. The address on the application lies between the bar from with Kaitlin disappeared and the park where she was found. It also has a man with bleached hair asleep on the couch when Fin and Lake arrive in the late afternoon. "I love it when they're stupid," Fin remarks as he slams Howard into a conveniently placed wall to cuff him.

At the one-six Munch convinces Olivia to leave the rest to them and bring the Stablers the good news.

* * *

Kathy and the kids are happy about Howard, they really are, but in their minds the main problem has not been solved. Olivia knows this because she feels the same way. The children fill their father's hospital room with the sound of their voices, without realizing that they are dispensing comfort also to Kathy and Olivia, until finally they are sent home and Kathy collapses on the cot that has been set up for her. Olivia leaves them alone for a while and acquaints herself with the fourth floor.

When she slips around the nurses to return, Kathy is asleep and Elliot is not. He's blinking up at the ceiling, looking confused, and he doesn't turn his head when she takes her seat next to him. Olivia considers calling a nurse, but he doesn't seem to be in pain. "Hey, El."

He squints at her fuzzily. "Kath?"

Unease stirs in the pit of her stomach. "No, it's Olivia. Kathy's behind you, asleep."

"Liv," he says, but his eyes don't get any clearer and she realizes he's shivering. "Liv. Don't go to Oregon."

Oh, Elliot. She squeezes his hand briefly. "I already went. I'm back."

"Don't go to Oregon," he repeats, stubborn.

"I swear, I won't ever go anywhere. You're stuck with me." Directed by some half-buried maternal instinct, Olivia draws the sheet and blanket up around his shoulders and brushes a palm against his warm forehead, trying to smooth out the worry lines. "Go back to sleep," she murmurs, smiling in spite of herself when he snakes an arm out from under the covers and reaches for her. She tucks the blanket firmly around his other shoulder and takes the outstretched hand. "Sleep," she orders.

Obediently he closes his eyes. Olivia rubs his hand between her own until his breathing evens out and she feels his muscles relax, and then she stills and tries to remember what she's been thinking.

_Sweet of you, George, but I'd rather not be grouped with Kathy and the baby._

Because she's not part of his family, she's not – she doesn't need that kind of one-sided protection. Behind every great man is a great woman, they say, but that's Kathy. Olivia's not supposed to be behind him. She's his partner: she's supposed to be at his side.

Goddammit, she's supposed to be at his side.

* * *

Casey watches Marcus Howard through the two-way mirror as he steadily denies having been in any bars in the past five days. Bullshit. She can testify to that herself; she looked at him closely enough the night before last.

Inside interrogation Fin points out, relatively calm, that multiple witnesses will put him in the bars of interest. Howard begins to crumble, and Cragen turns to Casey. "Enough?"

"I'll arraign him in the morning. A confession would help with the rape, though." He flips the switch to cut off the sound but Casey continues to watch. "I can't believe I thought he was cute," she murmurs.

"I couldn't believe it in the first place," Lake says.

"Jealous?"

"Just don't think he measures up to my dashing good looks."

"What good looks?" she quips, but it's just not as funny as it was at Maloney's.

* * *

Olivia's half asleep sitting up, an acquired skill, when he stirs and blinks up at her. "Liv," he says sleepily.

So far, so good. "Yeah, it's me," she says, squeezing his hand. "Don't talk too much, okay?" She fears what he might say. Also she'd rather he spare the effort her name alone just cost him.

He looks around questioningly and she grins. "Attention hound. Maureen took the kids home for the night. Kathy's asleep behind you. I guess she didn't sleep much last night and finally crashed."

The look he gives her plainly reads, _And you?_, which reminds her of her conversation with Lizzie. "We all got tested, El, and we're all clean except you. And we got the perp. It was Howard."

_Go on, _his gaze says, so she does. She tells him all about the investigation, about Casey's opinion of Howard's looks, about his children crowding the room. She does her best impression of Munch swearing at the empty coffee pot after tripping over a box of receipts to get to it at three in the morning. When his eyes drift shut and she runs out of anecdotes, she falls silent and just sits there, holding his hand.

"Liv," he croaks, after several minutes of peace.

"Shh," she says automatically.

"They tell me… they say I might…."

"I know, El." She bows her head and holds his hand to her own forehead like a faith healer, wishing she had the power of reassurance. "I know."

"Liv…"

"Shut up," she says fiercely. "You're gonna use everything you have to fight this, El, you got that?"

He squeezes her hand and shuts up. They sit like that, mute with the knowledge of their own helplessness, until the sun comes up.

* * *

When Kathy wakes, Olivia leaves the Stablers alone and haunts the fourth floor. She makes friends with the nurses, she learns how to kick the vending machine so that it spits out the damn chocolate, and she discovers that the same waiting room that ignored her silent tears two days ago also ignores her falling asleep over three chairs.

It's Lizzie who wakes her, eye more grave than a fifteen-year-old's should ever be. Olivia sits bolt upright and checks her watch. Shit, it's five in the afternoon.

"Tired?" Lizzie asks. "Sorry. I just thought you'd like to be around right now."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing exciting." Lizzie hesitates. "They say we might not be able to tell, you know, if he's getting worse, but if he makes it to morning we can breathe again."

The fact that these words come from such a young girl terrifies her almost as much as the words themselves.

When they reach Elliot's room, Lizzie slips under the arm her stoic twin holds out and Olivia grins at the sight of Eli crawling across the floor. From the bed Elliot is grinning too. The baby falls onto his belly on the hard floor and Olivia scoops him up before he can begin to cry.

"What are you still doing here?" she teases, kissing the top of his head. Eli hiccups out a sob and buries his face in her neck.

"That's babyspeak for, _waiting for Grandma to come take me home_," Maureen supplies.

Bouncing the baby, Olivia sits on the foot of Elliot's bed and gives him her bravest smile. "Glad to see someone's awake."

"You should talk," Kathleen snorts, ignoring her mother's admonishing look. "Every time I wandered through the waiting room you were snoring."

"They must have you stressed out at that college, honey, because I don't snore."

Elliot laughs.

God, how she's missed that sound.

"You," she informs him, "snore so loudly we can hear you from the squad room."

The kids snicker and Kathy shakes her head; and when Elliot falls asleep and Kathy's mother comes for the baby, the Stablers and Olivia settle in to pray for the morning.

* * *

_TBC..._

_We're nearing the end of the ride. I'm done writing so all that lies between now and the next chapter is you all and your amazing reviews... hint, hint. Love to all!_


	31. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: See previous. Also one of Munch's lines was stolen from Jodi Picoult, _The Pact._ I only dream of being like Jodi.

* * *

_Friends are people who know you a little more than you know yourself. _

– _Kairos 166_

* * *

John Munch has never considered himself a sentimental man. He doesn't cry, he doesn't brood, he runs in the opposite direction when confronted with Disney movies. So there is no accounting for his thinking when Olivia barrels into the squad room at seven in the morning, disheveled and barely containing a grin: that she is the most beautiful thing he's seen all month.

He and Fin, called in early on a body found in Central Park, are the only audience; and they can read the good news in her face. She tells them anyway. "Out of the woods. Officially."

"Oh, you didn' have to come all the way down here to tell us _that,_" Fin says, trying to be sarcastic, but the relief edges his voice so that Olivia doesn't call him on it.

"Don't wanna go home," she says lightly, slinging herself into her chair. "I think I might've left the milk out. I'll put that reunion off, thanks. What's going on?"

John briefs her on their case, glad for an extra hand. As the day progresses he finds himself sneaking glances across the room at her.

It's not because she's beautiful, although she is – and he's worked beside her for so long that even _thinking _about her like that is strange and mildly disturbing. But that's not it. It's watching the pure, giddy joy fade from her face in increments, so that by lunch she's herself and when they call it an early night at six she's a quieter version of the detective who's been moping around for a month and a half.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep – she has to be exhausted. And she's headed up to the crib to crash, which won't help.

John prays that that's all it is. He can't take much more cold war.

* * *

He's bored. After much discussion and reassurance and a few tears Elliot sent a weary Kathy home. He's half regretting this now, wide awake in the middle of the night with nothing to do.

The fact that she took his cell phone with her doesn't help.

For some reason he keeps expecting Olivia to wander in, like she was doing before this morning. Logically, of course, this is stupid, as they're alienated so severely that it's a miracle she spent as much time here as she did. He shouldn't expect anything from her.

Not that he wants anything.

This is the problem with their communication: they have to be face to face to have the slightest chance of understanding each other. Elliot can't interpret the damn napkin without knowing her expression as she wrote it. _I asked the girl behind the counter what she thought would suit a tall, dark, and handsome jackass._ Did she really ask that? Does she really think he's a jackass? Of course she does, but was that actually going through her head at that moment? What does _tall, dark, and handsome_ have to do with anything?

He's thinking too much. He needs something to do. He's starting to get a sense of how high and dry he left her, those nights he visited but let her sleep. It's not rest you need in a hospital; it's moral support.

The uncertain thread that is his partnership is not very supportive.

* * *

Olivia refuses to go home. It's not rational; it's a familiar feeling of _nobody ask because I can't explain._ As long as she doesn't go home, she can pretend that the last five days were just a truly awful dream; but no way is she going to explain that to the guys, especially since it doesn't even make sense in her head.

It's not like she can sleep, anyway. On this, her second night in the crib, she figures she's feigning sleep very well. Well enough for somebody to be standing over the bunk, staring at her.

Upon opening her eyes she discovers that it's Munch, and he does not seem inclined to explain himself. For lack of anything wittier she says, "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

He's like Elliot in one infuriating way: he's unfazed. "I'm trying to figure out," he says thoughtfully, "why you're faking sleep in the crib when you'd much rather be elsewhere. Say, at the hospital."

Damn him. "I'm not faking," Olivia growls, rolling away.

Munch sits on the edge of her bed. "Fin and I went to see Stabler today."

"I thought you were on my side." She amazes herself with her own petulance.

"We are. A little fraternizing with the enemy never hurt anyone."

"Sure it did."

He taps her shoulder. "Liv."

With a defeated sigh she sits up to face him. "Please don't give me a lecture on putting this behind us. I got three of those before Howard and you better believe the little voice in my head has not stopped yelling."

"I think this is one of those admittedly rare occasions when you should listen to the little voice in your head."

Olivia groans. "Did you come all the way up here to lecture me, or…?"

"Yes."

"Great," she says sourly.

"Liv," he says, making as though to touch her shoulder again; he thinks better of it and lets his hand fall to his lap. "We're all on your side. I just don't think what you're doing is good for you anymore."

What she's doing is avoiding Elliot, but somehow she doesn't think that's precisely what he's getting at. "You're being uncharacteristically sweet, John, but the last thing I need right now is someone else trying to look after me."

"Here's the thing." Munch props his chin on one hand, assuming his most professorial manner. "I have no doubts about your ability to take care of yourself out on the streets where it counts. Elliot doesn't either."

_Bullshit_ is on the tip of her tongue, but she wants so badly to believe him that she stays silent.

"But other things, Liv, like sleeping and staying away from the place you really want to be…not so much."

Olivia looks away. This is not the John Munch she's used to, and she's afraid he's right. "This isn't – "

"It became my business when it affected this unit, and I would've made it my business anyway. When you love someone you let them take care of you."

"Who said anything about love?"

"I think that's part of being a family."

She squints at his darkened form, thinking this over, and the words spill from her before she can second-guess it. "I just don't want it to go back to the way it's been."

John sighs. "I don't have any deep advice, Liv. But I will let you in on a little secret: I don't want that either."

She laughs. Or maybe chokes. "God, you all must hate us."

"You, no. Elliot, for a while, but near-death experiences have a way of putting these things into perspective."

Is that what's making her change her tune? Kathy's phone call was heart-stopping, sure, but the label doesn't quite fit. Olivia finds herself shaking her head at her knees, trying to figure it all out.

The bed creaks as John gets up, apparently deciding he's done enough damage for now. At the door he pauses and turns, outlined by light. "You know something, Liv? Sometimes you don't make any sense."

"Yeah, well," she mumbles, "if you weren't always expecting women to make sense, maybe you wouldn't have gotten divorced so many times."

"Ouch!"

Olivia looks up, stricken. "Sorry. That was out of line."

"Liv, I'm very proud of my ability to laugh at myself." He spreads his arms, a showman. "Please laugh at me. Please."

She laughs; she can't help it. John drops the arms, a grin in his voice. "Good to have you back. Now if you don't mind, work it out with Stabler and stay back."

And he leaves her alone in the dark.

* * *

Late into the night Olivia lies in the crib, pretending to be asleep whenever anyone wanders by. She tries to pinpoint why she's no longer mad at her partner, and when that fails she considers his return. How will she manage to keep this from happening again? Half their diet is takeout or restaurants, both of which are now potential threats. Out of the question.

Shit.

That's it.

She lies rigid for a moment, frozen with the epiphany, then flies down the stairs to the empty squad room and digs in her drawers for a legal pad and a pen. She's going to write it all down before she forgets; she's going to write it all down because she's not sure she can explain face to face and if he's going to forgive her he'll need time.

By the time she's done early risers are straggling in to start the day. Olivia nods to them and smiles and heads for the hospital.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Please R&R. Love you all!_


	32. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: See previous.

BYOT warning is in effect. Also be warned of strong language, but I guess if you've gotten this far you don't mind that. I'm proofing in the public library and hyper-aware of the language.

* * *

_Don't you shiver  
__Sing it loud and clear  
__I'll always be waiting for you.  
_– _Coldplay_

* * *

In his nightmares Elliot hears his own voice. _I can't do this anymore – I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay!_

And Olivia's response: _You son-of-a-bitch, you know that's not true…_

Of course she was right...

He hears their more recent tribulations too. He hears _El, don't leave me, please_ and he hears _Fuck you _and he wakes shaking, confronted again with the neatly folded letter she left on his nightstand.

Twice he's done this to her; twice he's crushed the person he's meant to protect. He can't imagine anything he'd do that could hurt Olivia more than letting her, a woman with so little to tie her to this world, believe that she doesn't have him either.

And on top of everything, she was the one who had to figure it all out. In spite of himself Elliot reaches for her letter again.

* * *

_El,_

_I want to make it very clear, first of all, that this is not a you-almost-died-and-I-remembered-how-much-I-care-about-you kind of note. No. This is an I-get-it-now note. I get it now and I'm sorry._

_Of course, my getting it has a lot to do with your almost dying, but the distinction's still there._

_I should have seen it; I should have stopped it. It doesn't matter that we were off-duty; it doesn't matter that we were sitting as far from each other as humanly possible. We're partners and that's my job. Not to mention, you know, the whole best-friend concept._

_Micelli's getting to me was in no way your fault. You were half a block away, El; what could you possibly have done? But I can see how you might feel guilty. (By the way, you're an idiot.)_

_So I'm thinking we should strike a deal: I won't obsessively watch everything you eat/drink, if you stop making me walk in front of you._

_I get it because wanting to watch your every move has nothing to do with not trusting you and everything to do with not wanting to lose you. Everything to do with watching events spiral beyond either of our control. And your overprotectiveness (which still has to stop) probably has nothing to do with my being, well, me – female and alone and all that. So I guess we're okay on my end. You tell me if we're really okay. Because I've been very bored and a little lost._

_Cap says we've lost what makes us better than the rest. I told him we just misplaced it for a while._

_Working with Munch is no fun. All the same you'd better not come back until you're actually recovered. Hang out with the family and get well. I'll be here._

_Love, Olivia_

* * *

Shit, she really is the strongest person he's ever known. He drove her away once, and she came back. He did it again, and here she is forgiving him. Pretty ironic, considering he's the one who's supposed to be Catholic.

As before, it is her admission of any weakness that undoes him. _A little lost._ If that's what she's telling him, then what she's been going through is a dozen times worse. And he did that to her. If only he could think of a label cruel enough for a crime, he'd arrest himself. It's a circle almost like domestic violence: he keeps hurting her, and she keeps coming back.

She read him so perfectly too – better than he ever read himself. He's transparent to his partner when he gives her reason to look. And, apparently, sometimes when he doesn't.

Forget the matter of his trust in her – the total trust that he's been doing a piss-poor job of showing. Fuck that. Elliot is utterly humbled by the trust that she's willing to place in _him._ He's won some great honor, only he cheated; and Olivia, knowing all about him, is giving it to him anyway.

_A little lost._

Shit.

He knows Liv. He knows her family situation, or lack thereof – he knows it's been a hell of a long time since she's managed to stay in a relationship more than a few months – he knows that she leans on him when she doesn't have anyone else. He's not used to it happening so suddenly or so sharply, but that's no excuse.

He needs his phone back or he'll drive himself crazy. If only she'd stayed to talk, instead of sneaking in while he slept – but he couldn't ask that of her, on top of everything. She's a saint, he's always known that, but he's never told her. There are a lot of things he's never told her, things they probably should have talked about, after Micelli.

* * *

Casey is telling them all about her day in court arguing against Marcus Howard's hotshot defense attorney, who has apparently already come up with three reasons the case shouldn't go to trial. After much discussion Fin notices Olivia staring at her desktop and claps her on the shoulder. "He's not gonna plead out, is he, Casey?"

"No, no, of course not." Casey's eyes soften annoyingly when she looks at her. "I'll nail him on every charge, Liv, I swear."

"Who, Howard?" Olivia says blankly, having lost the thread of the conversation several minutes ago. "Yeah, I know. Lose the kid gloves, please."

They don't – that would involve giving her flak for being snippy – but the group soon breaks up and nobody looks at her twice when she gets up to intercept the girl hovering in the doorway.

It's Lizzie Stabler. Olivia frowns at her, worried. "Liz. What happened – is something wrong?"

"No…" Lizzie's giving her a funny look, but she's breathing too profound a sigh of relief to care. The girl shakes her head. "I'm gonna assume that's either a cop thing or an adult thing."

"Possibly both. So what are you doing here?"

Lizzie fumbles in her pocket and produces a folded sheet of paper. "I guess I was underfoot, hanging around Dad's room, so he made me courier."

Her heart thuds. Olivia accepts the note, which has her name scrawled across. "How primitive of him."

"Mom won't let him have his cell phone back until he gets home. Maybe not even then."

"Ah, she wants him to herself."

"Ew!" Lizzie squeals, screwing up her face.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Olivia says absently. "You're too young for that." She looks from the letter to the girl. "Did you read this?"

"No!"

Olivia raises an eyebrow. A guilty smile slips across Lizzie's face.

"I just saw where it said 'We're really okay' and I decided to get it to you fast."

"Liz." She tucks the note into her pocket and smiles from the inside out. "How about I buy you a soda?"

"Okay. We have to disband the club now, don't we?"

"We'll start a new one."

* * *

When Lizzie's gone, Olivia digs her partner's note from her pocket and folds her legs up onto her desk chair. _Liv, _it says in Elliot's cramped hand. Everybody calls her that, but he hasn't in ages, in the weeks before Howard.

Clearly she's reading too much into this. She checks to make sure none of the guys are watching her, but they've all found work to do. Right. Work. That.

Olivia suppresses the cowardly desire to go back to work instead of reading this. She flicks the note open.

_I was the jerk. I get to be sorry._

_I'm so sorry._

_The way you meant it, you're right – but just to be difficult I'm going to take it a different way and tell you it have everything to do with your being you._

_Because Liv, it all goes both ways._

_We're really okay. And I'm so sorry._

_It's a deal._

_I'll see you soon._

_--Elliot_

The impossibly wide grin bubbles up from inside her, so that she's at once sniggering and blinking back tears and Fin looks up to ask if she's all right. Olivia pushes back her chair and reads it again. She stands, energized, then sits back down since she's got nowhere to go. Both Fin and Lake are now looking at her strangely and she doesn't even mind.

With great care Olivia re-folds the note and tapes it to her computer monitor. They did it. They're back. Wait 'til everybody sees.

* * *

_TBC..._

_I've got one more chapter and an epilogue. I think you're really going to like them. Please review and I'll give them to you. :D_


	33. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: See previous.

This chapter is longer. I'm sure you're all crushed.

* * *

_As for repaying, friends don't _have_ to repay anything. Friendship is the most selfish thing there is. _

– _Wallace Stegner_

* * *

He's filling out his last and billionth release form when someone comes up behind him. Expecting his wife or maybe Kathleen, Elliot signs, thanks the nurse, and turns around.

To find his partner, whom he has not actually seen since he was pronounced on the road to recovery. Olivia smirks and nods at the wheelchair she's pushing. "Your carriage awaits."

He's so stunned to see her that he sits without raising a fuss. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Glad to see me, hmm?" She starts him towards the elevator with what seems like rather too much force.

Elliot backpedals. "Just, you know, surprised – "

She laughs and he shuts up, embarrassed. "I'm doing Kathy a favor," Olivia informs him. "It's on my way."

"No it's not."

"Well, it is when you consider that I'm coming over to your place for dinner." She steps around him to punch the elevator button and smiles at the confusion that must be in his face. "Did Kathy not mention that?"

"No. She didn't."

"Oops," Olivia says dispassionately. "Sorry."

"No, you're not. You're loving this."

"What can I say?" She wheels him into the elevator. "You got me."

* * *

Dining with the Stablers is to Olivia a life experience. Maureen and Kathleen are absent, but the twins and giggly baby provide more than enough entertainment and at least two arguments. Olivia loves watching her partner be a dad. She especially loves watching him and Lizzie catch each other's eye across the table and burst out laughing.

Looks like they're doing all right.

After dinner Kathy shoos them both away from the dishes on the grounds that Elliot is recovering and Olivia saved his life. Olivia rather thinks she's blowing this out of proportion, but hey, an excuse is an excuse. She follows Elliot into his living room and together they sprawl on the floor, leaning against the couch. He turns on the television. "What do you want?"

"I don't even know what's on at a normal time."

"Me neither." The TV is left at the channel it turned on to while they both try to figure out what the show is.

Once they've given up Elliot looks over at her. "We should talk."

She avoids his gaze. They should talk, she knows it, every problem they've ever had was brought on by not talking, but the last thing she wants is to relive the Micelli case. "Yeah, we should."

Lizzie wanders into the room then and eyes them cautiously. "Should I not interrupt this?"

"Probably not," Elliot says.

"Okay. Can I just make a suggestion?"

"You may."

"The couch?" Lizzie points to the tan sofa that they're using as a backrest. "It's really comfy, and you can, you know, sit on it."

Elliot and Olivia look at each other and shake their heads. "Couches," he pronounces deliberately, "are for shrinks."

Olivia shoves him. "George did _not _make you lie on a couch."

"Couches are for shrinks."

"Okay…" Lizzie backs away. "I'll just leave now."

"Liz, wait." Olivia gestures at the television. "What are we watching?"

"_America's Next Top Model._ The real question is why."

* * *

Soon Elliot tires of flipping through the channels and glances sideways at his partner. He likes that it's easy again, that he can sit here aimlessly with her without having to make small talk. If only he didn't owe her an explanation.

Olivia notices him watching her. "What?"

"I freaked out," he says simply. "I'm sorry."

"Elliot – "

But he has to make her understand. It's not fair to let her think anything but the truth. "You were just so scared, Liv."

She looks down, fiddles with the zipper of her gray sweatshirt. "Yeah, I know."

"How much do you remember?" he asks quietly, because he's been wondering this all along.

"All of it, I think. It started with a nurse at the doorway and ended with being wheeled into the OR." She waits for his confirming nod before going on, "And you held my hand the whole time."

Well. He glances away.

"I never thanked you for that, El, for staying with me the whole day – and night – "

"No-one ever said you needed to," he murmurs.

"Look at me." She holds his gaze, frank, reassuring, the Olivia he knows. "You were…a total jackass afterwards, but, El, _nothing_ should have been able to cancel out the fact that you were there for me when I needed you the most."

He stares at her, overcome again by this level of forgiveness. Olivia looks into her lap, muttering, "It took me a while to process that, I guess. Still not used to it."

"Used to what?"

"To someone, you know, being there when I need them."

Elliot is seized by the sudden urge to hug her close, so tight that his convictions will seep into her: his faith in their partnership, his oft-renewed vow to always, _always_ be there for her. He settles for reaching across the space between them to squeeze her shoulder. "Liv."

"Yeah."

"I still had no right to say what I did to you."

She laughs and traps his hand with her own, holding it there. "You're right. You didn't." She looks at him expectantly. _Your turn._ He wants to drop his hand, avert his gaze, but she won't let him.

So Elliot grips her shoulder harder and talks. "I kinda like having you around, you know."

"Well, sure. No sane detective will have you."

"True." He understand now how she gets confessions. It's in the eyes. "I almost lost you, Liv. I kind of did, for a while there. And sometimes I couldn't even be with you to do whatever I could…"

"It was better when you were there," she says, in response to his unspoken question.

"Really?"

"Yeah. After all these years on the job, you know, the first thought waking up alone in a strange place isn't exactly _oh, of course, hospital._" She shrugs.

"Oh," Elliot says, mouth dry, trying to remember his point around the swelling in his chest. "The thing is, Liv, you scared the shit out of me. And when you were…you know…I wanted to do anything to get that look off your face. And then I wanted to do anything to keep it from happening again."

Olivia chews on her lower lip, finally lets his hand go. "You think I like knowing you witnessed that? You, of all people…you need to know that I can hold myself together."

"You don't always have to be so tough. It's not like you have something to prove."

She smiles at his naïveté. "I'm a woman in sex crimes, Elliot. I will _always_ have something to prove."

"Not to me."

Suddenly she drops her gaze to the carpet between them. "To someone."

"Not to me," he repeats. "Not ever. I didn't mean what I said. Not now. Not with Gitano."

"No?" She traces the pattern.

His heart cracks, just a little. "No. I couldn't handle such a close call. It was my problem and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Olivia glances at him, offering up a trembling smile. "I thought we sorted all this out already."

"Well, as my partner, you need to know exactly why I'm being a son-of-a-bitch at any given time." He watches her smile steady into the genuine article and he sinks back against the couch.

"I changed it back," she says after a moment.

"Changed what?"

"My next of kin. I never should have changed it in the first place."

Elliot struggles to act as though this is not such an earth-shattering compliment. "So why did you?"

"I guess I liked the idea of having family." She considers. "And I figured if something happened to me, Simon would need to be notified. You wouldn't."

He smirks because this at least is true, then studies his knees. As long as they're being honest. "I thought I'd been doing something wrong."

"No!" she says, startled. "You didn't."

"Yeah, well, between that and the way you made me promise not to leave – "

"Shut up. You do fine when you're not trying too hard." Olivia grins suddenly. "And hey, _you_ asked me not to go to Oregon."

For a fleeting moment he worries about her sanity. "I never got a chance to ask you not to go to Oregon. I didn't even know that's where you _were._"

"No, El, last week. You were delirious and you kept telling me not to go to Oregon."

Jesus Christ. "I have no memory of this," he mutters defensively.

"That's probably good, 'cause it wasn't pleasant." She scoots closer and lets him drape an arm around her shoulders. "Call it even?"

Elliot pulls her to his side, half a hug. "Deal."

* * *

He makes it across the squad room and to the door of his office before it hits him: the air full of buoyant change. Don turns abruptly and strides back to the center of the room. "What the hell is going on in here?"

Perched on the edge of her partner's empty desk, struggling with a plastic packet, Olivia looks up and around in surprise. Munch, Fin and Lake act busy. "Nothing?" she ventures.

"Why is it so damn cheerful?"

On her face confusion gives way to concern. "Is everything all right, Captain?"

Munch snickers and Don whirls on him. "Something to add?"

"Yeah, actually." He leans back in his chair, so satisfied that Don is tempted to order him to spit out the canary, and announces, "She's eating Stabler's food again."

Olivia's jaw drops. "It's gum!" she protests. "I'm out and my breath smells like breakfast and he's always got fifteen packets lying around – "

"Poor guy's not even around to see her steal it," Lake says mournfully.

Fin chimes in, "Yeah, she always at least has the courtesy to eat _my_ food in front of me. Stabler's in the doghouse."

"Or," Munch adds reflectively, "out of it."

"You're all freaks," Olivia says with dignity, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. She tosses the packet to Fin. "If I share, will you shut up?"

Smiling to himself, Don retreats and leaves his team to debate the morality of chewing their coworker's gum.

* * *

_TBC...kind of..._

_Just the epilogue left. Pleasepleaseplease tell me what you all thought of this. Thanks for the reviews!_


	34. Epilogue

Disclaimer: See previous.

Sorry for the delay. My Internet went down and then RL intervened. Not to mention that I'm basically back in school. Yay band camp!

* * *

The end depends upon the beginning.

– The Emperor's Club

* * *

_I guess a lot of people would've liked a break from the streets, but man, I hate paperwork. So I was thrilled, yesterday, to finally be cleared for active duty again. Actually it hadn't been that long, but Liv and I hadn't been out there together, really together, since the Micelli case._

_I thought all the wrong things about Olivia after that. I thought I had to go farther than usual, I thought I had to do more to show her I was there for her. She's the strongest person I know; I never forgot that. But I thought of her alone, and I thought I had to show these things better, what I think of her, how far I'd go._

_Turns out she knew all along. Silent communication and all._

_It went great between us yesterday until the time came to get out of the car and walk. We looked at each other: I knew she was thinking what I was thinking. "You said," she reminded me, "we have a deal."_

Please_, I thought, because it was never that I didn't trust her or that I hadn't stopped it, only that Micelli's picking Olivia was a direct result of her taking up the rear._

_And when she's not furious with me, Liv can read my face. She grinned and jogged my elbow to get me moving. "Well," she said, "I guess we could always walk side by side."_

_-- Elliot Stabler_

* * *

_Last night I dreamt that I had gone back in time. I was in a second grade classroom, but it wasn't mine. I wasn't there to learn. I wasn't there to teach, either. I was just there. As a partner._

_Elliot was giving his talk to the class, letting the kids in the front rows exclaim over his shiny badge. "Who can guess another part of my job?" he was saying._

_When nobody volunteered, Dickie jumped in. "Partner!" he shouted._

"_That's one," Elliot agreed, pointing at me. "Rule number one: always, _always_ watch your partner's back."_

"_Yeah," I said, "that's the part of the job he's __too __good at."_

_And then, like in real life, he laughed and said, "Well, she's not half bad at it either." And went on to elucidate the meaning of 'watch one's back' for the eight-year-olds._

_In the dream I was more or less the same as I am today. The kids got bigger and the ADAs change but some things remain._

_So we both do it, I guess. And neither of us ever really realized what we were doing, or why, or questioned the instinct, or thought of how our problems might affect each other – Captain always says his detectives occasionally have to be hit over the heads with things._

_The thing is, to this day that's still how I think of it. Partnership. Always, always._

_-- Olivia Benson _

finis

* * *

So I have a confession to make...

I don't ship E/O. The concept actually freaks me out. This story has never been E/O, although I will admit that it could be read that way. I figure the show is ambiguous, so I can be ambiguous too. I'm a huge fan, clearly, of EO friendship -- I think it's a mistake to believe that a relationship has to be romantic/sexual to be real and loving and important.

Now that I've gotten off the soapbox, thank you all so so much for sticking with my story. Your reviews make me smile and laugh and occasionally cry, and you've all made a great experience (writing) even better. One last time please -- tell me what you thought and if Olivia's making sense (if you're severely confused go back to the prologue -- and Elliot references chapter 21). I will of course keep writing -- I'm getting a postep for "Cold" out of my system right now.

Love and best wishes to you all, reviewers and lurkers alike -- peri

* * *


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